Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball
by fiddle-d-d
Summary: A mysteryromance of Harry's post-Hogwarts life . . . not only must he and his comrades struggle with evil, but they must also battle their own emotions and obstacles
1. The Very Beginning (Where Else?)

Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball

by Hannah

_Okay, obviously all the HP 'stuff' belongs to the brilliant J.K. Rowling, but there are several characters and obviously many events that are _my_ creation . . . so please, don't steal them from me!:0(_

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_I hope you enjoy . . . please review, for my sake!If I don't feel inspired, I don't write, which means no updates . . . _

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_I have written everything up through chapter 13, but I am currently involved in the rather tedious process of revising everything to make it more eloquent and more to my taste.The overall story will be far more than thirteen chapters, and it will take me an extremely lengthy time to revise this much, not to mention write the rest, but alas, such is life . . . _

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_Feel free to e-mail me w/ suggestions and the like at [**fiddle_d_d@bolt.com**][1] . . . I'd appreciate hearing from you!:0) _

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_And now that I've bored you w/ this lengthy introduction, you may begin my novel w/ ~_

Chapter One ~ The Very Beginning (Where Else?)

The sky, speckled with stars, was otherwise an impenetrable blanket of darkness.Strong gusts of wind pummeled the wooden planks that made up the small, widely spaced houses of Ginford Drive.In one such weather-beaten and timeworn house, a certain individual sat at an equally poor desk, his eyes glued to a small clock that hung on the dimly lit wall.His eyes followed the second hand on its never-ending round, trying desperately to keep his eyes open.He rubbed his bleary green eyes behind their spectacles, yawning._One more minute, he told himself.__Just one more . . ._

"Finally!" he exclaimed."I am now eighteen!"

Harry Potter welcomed the 31 July in such a way each year, yet this time, he felt very much alone.His uncle, aunt, and cousin, the Dursleys, weren't even there (although he wasn't entirely sure he missed them).Even so, his friends, Ron and Hermione, hadn't even sent him cards.He understood how busy they were.Just this summer they had graduated from _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.Each was trying to scrape together a living, and it was very trying, and exhausting._

Harry had unsuccessfully been attempting to find a job.He had searched through the Ministry of Magic, but there were no available jobs.Then, he had turned to Gringotts, the wizarding bank.Unfortunately, the only vacancies were for goblins, which basically ran the place.Harry was unemployed, and he hated to say it, but he was almost without any money left with which to support himself.He was in dire straits.

Harry shuddered away the thought with an enormous yawn.He set about preparing himself to retire for the night.He was just about to hop into bed when a draft came in from the window, the air whistling in a cold, dry, quite unpleasant way.

Harry stumbled to the window, basically blinded by his weariness.He pushed his jet-black hair from his eyes, revealing an oddly shaped, jagged scar.This scar was the result of Voldemort's attempt upon his life, and the way that just about everyone was able to identify the all-famous Harry Potter. Harry pushed his glasses farther up on his nose, and then began the pull the window closed.He took one look out the window, however, and was immediately revived.

"Hedwig!" he shouted.

A small, flapping figure appeared in the distance.It slowly made its way towards Harry's open window, and finally landed on the sill, seemingly exhausted.

Harry gently gathered the snowy white owl in his arms and gently let her down on his bed.She was obviously fatigued, and Harry decided it was best to leave her alone.He diverted his attention to the parcels attached to her talons.

Harry undid the twine that was holding two parcels and two letters to her claws, and carefully reached for the largest box.

Harry recognized the handwriting of his dear friend Ron immediately.He looked suspiciously at the box; it had a number of holes punched in the top of it, and the words **HANDLE WITH CARE were stamped upon it.**

Harry carefully opened the envelope attached to the side, and unfolded a letter from within it.It read,

Dear Harry,

It is once again your birthday.I wish you well.I do hope you enjoy the enclosed gift.After you have opened the package, you will find more information.Happy birthday, with many more to come!

Your friend,

### Ron

_Most curious, Harry thought, as he began to open the box.He then heard it: a small squeaking noise.Harry raised an inky eyebrow and continued.The noise came again.Finally he managed to remove the lid from the package.A rat spilled into his lap, with another piece of paper:_

Harry—

The many times we have shared with Scabbers, eh? Well, I hope that this rat ends up more loyal than he, and that you also find pleasure in Hermione's gift (we co-conspired).

Ron

"Of course, the weasel!" Harry said aloud, laughing in the process.Scabbers.Didn't that bring back awful memories?Scabbers had been Ron's pet rat, but ended up being an Animagus wizard by the name of Peter Pettigrew.Peter had betrayed Harry's parents to Lord Voldemort, the darkest wizard ever to exist.Harry's parents were killed as a result, but Voldemort simply could not kill Harry.He had tried, but through doing so, had lost all of his powers.A weak shadow of what he once had been, he retreated into the forests of a faraway land, waiting until the time that he could regain the powers he had lost.

Harry turned suspicious eyes upon Hermione's gift.It, too, had a letter attached to it.

Dear Harry:

Enclosed is MY gift.I suppose you have already opened Ron's, it being the larger of the two.Really, Harry, you must learn that size is not everything . . . 

Anyhow, I believe he made mention of the fact that we put our heads together and decided on two very unlikely gifts for our dearest friend.I do hope you like it, but I'm not sure you will.

Well, it is the thought that counts, but happy birthday anyhow, and I hope all your dreams and wishes come true.You are like my brother, and no matter the distance between us, I will not forget you (nor forget to chide you at times).

Best wishes,

Hermione

Harry sighed and opened the box.It opened more easily than Ron's had.He missed the two of them dearly.Actually, they had not met since they had graduated Hogwarts.He looked down into the box to see a crystal ball.

He laughed.There was no sheet of paper in this box, for he knew the significance.Hermione, as well as Ron and himself, had truly despised Divination, the study of the telling of the future. 

He turned to a very full envelope, addressed to him the scrawling handwriting of Sirius Black, his godfather.

Sirius had been imprisoned for twelve dark years in the dreadful prison of Azkaban for murders that he did not commit.Although he hadn't been excused for his crimes, for nobody would believe the truth, that Peter Pettigrew had indeed killed 12 Muggles (non-magical people), as well as himself (supposedly), Harry believed him.That was the important part, because Sirius had been the best friend of Harry's parents.

He slit open the envelope and read:

Dear Harry,

I am pleased to wish you a very happy birthday.As you can see, I did not give you a large present this year.Indeed, it is something that you need far more.

As you may know, I recently got a job in the Ministry, and therefore have knowledge of things of which the public is not generally aware.I have managed to secure an interview for you at Hogwarts for several new subjects they are adding to their list of courses.

Harry, don't try for the Defense Against Dark Arts job, you know everyone says it is cursed.

Enclosed is a ticket on the Hogwarts Express for the 15August.Term begins on September 1, but the teachers must be selected a week or so beforehand.You know the process of getting on the train.

I have also paid for a ticket on The Knight Bus for August 1 (tomorrow), at any time that is convenient for you.When you reach Diagon Alley, I have also paid for the necessary time slot for you to reside at the Leaky Cauldron.

I hope you enjoy this gift.

Sirius

Harry stared at the letter, stunned.He read it through twice more, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming.Indeed, he was not.Could he, Harry, mayhap become a Hogwarts professor?

Harry smiled.Good old Sirius, his trustworthy friend and guardian.Sirius always looked out for Harry.Was he ever thankful!

Harry turned to the last envelope sitting upon his bed.He smiled.It was very large, and a sloppy "To Harry" was written across the front.Then, he looked at the next part and smiled."From You-Know-Who."He was sure that Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had not meant to write that."You-Know-Who" was another name for Lord Voldemort, as was "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."People were still scared about his rise to power, even if that had occurred many years ago, and most yet refused to call him by his true name.

Harry opened it, and read the contents. 

Harry,

I don't have a gift to give you, I hope you don't mind too much.Anyhow, I just wanted to wish you a very happy birthday.

Dumbledore showed me the list of people for the new jobs.Only the most select people get even this far.I saw your name and was very excited.There isn't much competition for you.There was one more famous name on there: Alice Oak.I don't know if you've heard of her; she is famous for her work to preserve the good in magic.She fights against the Dark Arts.I'll bet she gets the job.Nobody knows her Dark Magic like she does (I mean that in a good way, Harry)!You don't want that job anyway—you know what everyone says about it.

Anyhow, I hope that you are enjoying your break, and that you get the job.I will see you on the 25 August!

Your friend,

Hagrid

Harry smiled.Hagrid was such a nice guy.

He yawned again, and remembered how tired he was._Tomorrow, he thought,__ I will be in Diagon Alley._

He crawled into bed, thinking happy thoughts about his next few weeks.How bright they'd be!With that thought, he fell asleep.

"No, no!" Harry moaned."No, don't do that!"

Harry was having a horrific dream.Hermione was standing by him, with Ron on her other side, and a terrible tiger was pacing in front of them, its yellow eyes gleaming maliciously.Trees surrounded them, and there was nowhere to run.The feline's hungry eyes were fixed upon Hermione.Suddenly, it leapt at her.She screamed in pain.The forest that was surrounding him swallowed her up.The tiger then stared Ron straight in the eyes.Ron seemed fearful, but his tears were for Hermione as he called out her name.He seemed to almost will the tiger to finish him as well.The tiger then pounced at him, taking him down in a bloody mess of razor-sharp claws and ferocious growls.It then turned upon Harry.He could not run; the fear he felt bubbling up from the pit of his stomach paralyzed him.The tiger leapt upon him, too, but it didn't hurt him.It licked his face instead.And then, a sweet, angelic voice began to sing, and the tiger spoke.Itsaid, "Harry, follow your heart, not your head.Heed not what it tells you at times.You shouldn't always trust me.Learn from me, Harry.We could be great."With that, it vanished.

Harry awoke with a cold start.He knew not what to do, so disturbed was he by the nightmare he had just experienced.Drenched in cold sweat, he looked at his clock, which he had enchanted to make the numbers and hands glow.

4:52

He sighed.He knew, with that awful dream still vivid in his mind, he would never fall back to sleep.He decided he might as well make the journey to Diagon Alley now.Why not?

He packed up the few belongings he would need and walked onto the dusty road that the people residing in his community called a street, although it more closely resembled a poorly traversed path.Harry took out his holly wand and held it out.Suddenly, a large, purple, triple-decked bus came rushing towards him at a breakneck speed.He winced as it screeched to a stop right in front of him, the dust it had churned up coating him.

A young man, probably not much older than 20 or so, stepped out.He stood rigidly as he recited his monologue:

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard.Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go.My name is Stan Shunpike, an—"

"Hang on!" Harry said."I know all that.I believe that my name is on some sort of list.Sirius Black paid for me—"

"You're 'Arry Potter!" the man said, jumping out in one nimble motion and beginning to pump Harry's hand fervently."I met you once, you was prob'ly thirteen, an' you got on this 'ere bus, and told us you was Neville.No, you was 'Arry all along!"

Harry stepped back a bit."Yes, my name is Harry, but I would like to get to Diagon Alley, if you don't mind.May I . . . step aboard?" 

"Of course!" Stan stumbled backwards and fell flat on his posterior."Yes, come in, Mr. Potter!" he managed to stutter while scrambling clumsily for his footing.Finally managing to stand straight, Harry followed the clumsy youth into the bus.

The driver, Ern, looked at him with his owl-like eyes.They were glowing brightly in the dimly lit bus, and the man had a goofy grin pasted on his face."Hello.Pleased to meet you again."Ern didn't say much; Harry was thankful for that much.

Stan was about to dump Harry's trunk of belongings on the bed closest to the driver's seat, but Harry interjected."Could I have a bed—on one of the top decks?Alone?"

Stan looked crestfallen.

"I—love the view," Harry managed to quickly fabricate, in a desperate attempt to rid himself of the rather garrulous attendant.

"Stan smiled once more."O' course, Mr. Potter, as you wish!"

Harry, too, smiled—out of relief.The last time he had been on the Knight Bus, during his third year at Hogwarts, Stan managed to procure a steady glib of words.

Stan led Harry up a steep, wooden staircase to the second deck.It looked just like the first deck, but was without driver or steward."'Ere you go, Mr. Potter."Stan bowed out.Finally, Harry was alone.

Harry sat heavily upon the bed and sighed.He was so tired, and so pleased with the prospect of a job, that he felt that he had nothing to do but sleep.He lay down upon the bed and sat up again with a jolt when the bus gave a loud crack and began bumping along a busy highway quite far from his humble country abode.

Harry just then remembered the bus's tendency to jump a hundred miles at a time.

It took only a half-hour to finally arrive in London.Harry didn't manage to fall asleep; on the contrary, he was wide-awake by the time the ride was over.He smiled at Stan as he got off (Yes, I'm sure I can handle the trunk), and stepped out into the crowded streets of London.

Harry looked about him, and soon caught sight of the small, battered looking shop called The Leaky Cauldron.Harry crossed the street and entered the shabby building, which was invisible to Muggles.

Tom, the bartender, recognized him immediately.

"Mr. Potter," he said, stepping out from behind his counter."I'm so pleased to meet you again.You are to stay in room 3.I have taken the liberty of setting it up.If you would like, you could deposit your trunk and the owl cage right here.I will have it brought to your room.Your owl has already arrived."He smiled.

"Thank you, Tom," Harry said."I think I will go to the Alley now.I will see you for dinner, alright?"

"That's fine."Tom hobbled back over to his counter, where he poured a cup of "Grungles Gin—the Stuff for the Strong" for a stoop-shouldered man in the corner.It let off a suspicious steam, and Harry suspected it wasn't your average liquor.

Harry stopped momentarily."Actually, I'm going to go get Hedwig.I want her to deliver a few letters for me."

Harry walked up the stairs two at a time.He threw open his door and began opening and closing desk drawers quite noisily.He finally found a piece of parchment and a quill.He scrawled,

Ron and Hermione:

Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at 5:00 tonight, if you can.We can eat dinner and discuss old times.I'll see you then, I hope!

Harry

Harry thrust the letter into Hedwig's rather ruffled-looking beak, and briskly apologized to the bird."I'm sorry, girl, but I just don't have time.I must get a few things from the Alley."With that, Harry took back off down the stairs, panting slightly.He looked at the other doors.One of them sparkled with a sign enchanted to change color: _Don't worry about the room, Tom.I will clean it up later.Alice.Harry reached the bottom quickly.Tom looked back over at him._

"G'bye, Harry.See you later this evening."

"Yes.I'm expecting two people at five.I should be back, but if I'm not, can you just serve them each a drink or two?"

"Don't you worry, Mr. Potter.I'll fix them up right good."Tom went back to tidying his counter.

Harry was absolutely exhausted.He didn't really want to go to the Alley, but he figured he ought to buy anything he would need for the next day or two at least, and then he could rest at his leisure before securing himself a job as a member of the Hogwarts staff.

Harry stepped out of the doorway and onto the crowded sidewalk.He walked around the corner and to a trashcan standing against the wall.He pulled out his wand and tapped a brick in the wall thrice.A small hole appeared, which slowly opened to a doorway large enough for Harry to enter.

He walked into the magical street and looked about him.The wall closed behind him as he took in the magical shops that lay before him.

Shops full of wizarding goods spanned as far as he could see.Other witches, wizards, and magical beings, all dressed in their festive, colorful garb, crowded the narrow alleyway.He walked down the street, reaching into his pocket to take out a list.He managed to pull it out and began to read as he strolled down the street:

1 pint of lizard hearstones

2 new robes of black linen

1 new pointed hat

1 set of black leather boots

1 set of black leather gloves

1 silver cauldron, size 3

1 silver cauldron, size 4 ½

5 cloaks, various colors

2 vials of pig-snout blood

1 cup of dried vogold leaves

½ a dozen bags of freezewort

He didn't care to think what such an extensive list of goods would cost him.Harry stopped in front of a shop: Petterey's Shop of Miscellaneous Goods.He glanced at his list, looked in through the window, and stepped inside.

The shop was abuzz about him.All sorts of oddly dressed people were bustling around, glancing at rather exorbitantly priced goods.There was one little man who was wearing a bright turquoise cloak and purple hat, a tall, homely woman wearing a short-skirted robe (the newest style in the magical world), and a clerk wearing a bright silver cape that swirled about him in a very silky manner.This man was making his way towards Harry right now.

Harry habitually patted down his black bangs to keep his scar from showing.He hated public attention.

"Good afternoon," the man in the silver cloak said in a voice as silky as his cloak.He had a large wart on the end of his nose.Harry also hated warts. 

"Hi," Harry replied shortly, looking his list over once more."I need two silver cauldrons, please."

"What size might you be looking for, sir?"

"A size three and a size four and one half."

"I see.I will be right back.Wait here momentarily, please."

Harry stood, waiting, as the man bustled off to the window display, which was full of cauldrons.Harry grimaced.Most of them were very . . . extravagant, surely more costly than he could afford at the moment.There was only one person even bothering to look at them—

Harry's breath caught in his throat._She's the most exquisite woman I've ever seen, Harry thought to himself._

He didn't even realize that he was staring rudely at the woman.She was turned sideways, and Harry saw some of the most unusual, most _extraordinary features he had ever seen._

Harry himself was quite tall, standing somewhere near five foot eleven inches.Even so, this woman was a mere inch or two shorter than he.She was very thin, with a modest bosom but a well-defined waist.Her skin was as white as parchment, and her lips red and somewhat full.Her miniature rendition of a Grecian nose was perfect, and her eyes . . . they were astounding shades of purple and violet, and small gold flecks seemed to bring them to life with a merry sparkle he had never before seen.The woman's hair was a wonderful shade of gold, and fell past her shoulder blades in long, luxurious tresses.Her robes had a V-neck, and fit her lithe body snugly to her golden belt, which had a wide clasp that was set with rubies.It then swept down in a full silk skirt with a short train in the back.The sleeves were also long and sweeping.The sleeves, neck, and skirt were trimmed with gold braid that shimmered in the bright shop lights.

The woman turned quite suddenly and looked at him, her fine face looking directly into his.Something in her eyes flashed at that moment—was it fear?It lasted only a fraction of a second, for by the time it registered in Harry's mind, it was gone.Her eyes appeared to laugh at him.She turned back to the display of ruby-studded golden cauldrons that she was admiring.

The store clerk was making his way back to Harry as well.The man had a cauldron in each hand."Will that be all?" he inquired in his oily voice.

"Yes," Harry replied.The man turned away to help a more prospective customer."But—"

"Yes?" the clerk asked in an exasperated tone.He obviously did not believe Harry to be worth his efforts; he had to admit that he looked somewhat shabby in a pair of threadbare denim pants and a faded shirt.

"Well, I was only wondering . . . who is that blonde lady who is standing at the display case, looking at cauldrons?"

The man gazed at him incredulously."You don't know?" he asked in an astounded undertone.

"No, I must confess that I don't," Harry replied in a meek voice.

"Well, I don't suppose you would, only the most genteel, up-to-date wizards in England know of her, although I can't see why . . . in every other country, she is the female equivalent of Harry Potter himself . . ."

Harry felt his face flush crimson.

"Then again, I suppose Harry Potter might be the reason that she is rather slow at catching on here . . . someday, everyone will realize that she is a much more talented wizard than he . . . she has defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on at least a half a dozen occasions herself, you know . . ."

"Yes," Harry interrupted exasperatedly, "But who _is she?"_

"Oh, her name is Alice Oak," the man replied curtly."Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry replied weakly.

At that moment, the wind let out a vicious howl and a tremendous clap of thunder resounded throughout the store.The oil lamps within the shop flickered and went out.

Immediately, the shoppers panicked.Each person toppled over the next in his attempt to squeeze through the doorway.Harry couldn't move; people were nearly trampling him in their eagerness to get out through the door.

A person spoke from the other side of the room—Harry guessed that he was the manager.

"Everyone, please stay calm.One at a time, please.You'll all get out quickly if you follow such advice."

Apparently, one person had managed to retain a grasp upon logic in the hullabaloo."Lumos," a musical voice commanded.The blonde woman, Alice, was smiling calmly as the lights rekindled themselves.

The people in the building seemed relieved and headed for the door in a much more orderly fashion, the store once more aglow with the golden light of natural fire, the only kind of lighting in the magical community.The manager made his way from behind his counter, nearly bursting with excitement.

"Miss Oak, I'm so pleased to meet you . . . thank you so much, I could have never have done such myself . . ."

Harry looked on in disgust as the man practically drooled all over the poor woman.She was looking at the shop's owner with a skeptical look on her face as well.

"It was—nothing," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth, rushing to join Harry at the end of the exit line.

The line was slowly making its way out and into the rainy weather.Harry was just about to step outside when the woman behind him muttered "Jumping dragons!" in a slightly exasperated voice.

Harry turned around, facing the woman."Is something wrong?" he asked.

She sighed."Yes, there is.I forgot my wand . . . would you happen to have yours with you?"

Harry realized that she didn't speak with an English accent; she instead spoke like she was from America.He wasn't used to it.He rather enjoyed the sound of her voice just the same.Perhaps he liked her all the more for her different way of speech.

"But—you . . ."

"I rekindled the lanterns?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, you see, some spells are so simple that one eventually doesn't need one's wand to perform such spells anymore.But the spell I need at the moment . . ."

Harry was fumbling with his jean pockets."Here you go."Harry handed the woman a rather battered looking wand made of holly.It temporarily escaped his notice that the average witch or wizard cannot use the wand of another member of the magical community.However, she accepted it graciously and muttered something that Harry couldn't hear.Harry was about to step out into the rain when she shouted, "Wait!"

Harry froze in the doorway, the rain splattering upon the back of the ragged yet clean sweater he wore over his shirt.She smiled and said in a clearer, stronger voice this time, "Impervius completium!" 

Suddenly, Harry didn't feel the rain anymore.He gazed at his clothes and realized that the water wasn't even touching them anymore.Instead, it dripped slowly from them in small rivulets.He looked at her with a look of stunned stupidity on his face, and she smiled.He realized his mouth was open and she began to laugh as he closed it quickly.It rang pleasantly in his ears as he grappled for a conversation topic.Such was unnecessary; she addressed him instead."Where are you headed?" she asked him with interest.

"The Leaky Cauldron."

"Wonderful, me too.Let's walk there together."She tossed him his wand; he caught it and tucked it back into one of the pockets in his jeans.

"Well, Mr. Potter, why are you here?"

Harry looked at her in confusion."How did you know who I was?"

She bit her lips and said, "Well—some people you can just tell who they are, right away.I mean, you're in just about every modern textbook."

Harry was instantly reminded of Hermione, who read interminably and knew everything."Yes, I suppose so.But I've heard that you're in a fair few yourself . . ."

"And I absolutely hate it."She laughed again, then sighed."I have a horrid convention that I'm supposed to be at tonight, but I think I'll call in ill."She smiled wickedly, displaying glinting white teeth.

Harry said, "You could join me.I'm having a few friends tonight at the Leaky Cauldron.We could all sit and get to know each other."

She smiled."Yes, I would enjoy that greatly."

They walked on, not a bit wet, as everyone stared at them.Nobody else knew that charm, apparently._How odd, Harry thought._

"How did you know that spell?" Harry asked the young woman escorting him.

"Well, I know a lot of spells that other people just don't seem to know exist," she replied slowly. 

Harry smiled roguishly."Well, you're in for some competition tonight.Hermione knows a good many spells that other people don't seem to know, also."

Alice smirked."I don't think your Hermione is any competition for me, though she is also nothing to sneeze at."

"How'd you know that?" Harry asked, open-mouthed once more.

She bit her lip again."I just—know things," she managed lamely.

It was then that Harry saw her necklace.

It was a small crystal orb strung about her neck on a fine gold chain.It wasn't very large, perhaps the size of a marble.A fine, white mist swirled within it.

"A crystal ball," Harry said, reaching out for it.She flinched slightly at his touch, but Harry didn't notice.They both stopped in the middle of the street as Harry stooped low and admired the necklace.People about them in the crowded street attempted to avoid bumping into them, shooting them unappreciative glances for detaining them from their business.

"Yes, I'm—"

"Are you a Seer?" Harry inquired.

"Well, to some extent."She shrugged."Depends on your definition of the word 'Seer'."

"Can you tell the future?"

"Yes." 

Harry lifted his eyes to hers."Well then, that settles it.You're a Seer."

She smiled again and forced a small laugh."All right," she said."I'm a Seer."

"Okay."Harry straightened himself.Suddenly, a cold voice sneered at Harry."Hey, Harry, who's the girl?"

Harry would know that voice anywhere: Draco Malfoy.

Harry looked at Alice."I'll be right back," he assured her.

She just smiled in response and nodded shortly.

Harry ambled over to Draco, who was standing on the sidewalk, an umbrella over his head.His silvery-blonde hair wasn't wet, but his pale skin looked damp, and his black robes were soaked.Harry and Draco had been enemies of a sort ever since their first day of attendance at Hogwarts.Harry sensed that this meeting would be no friendlier than those in previous years.

"What's the matter, Potter?Who paid the girl to spend the evening with you?You could have done better.Sure, she's fairly attractive, but somewhat plain in her makeup tastes.Only lipstick.What, is she on a budget, too?"

Harry stared Draco squarely in the eyes."Don't bother her.She's better than the scum you associate with.Besides, your quarrel is not with her, but with me."

Draco smirked."Oh yeah?Who the hell is she, anyway?What's her name?Or do you even know, Potter?"

A musical voice at Draco's ear whispered, "Hello to you as well, Mr. Malfoy.My name happens to be Alice Oak.I'm very pleased to meet you."

Draco's already pallid face drained slowly of its color until it was almost as white as that of Alice."I'm pleased to meet you . . ." he stuttered."I've heard so much about you . . ."

Alice sighed, rolling her violet eyes."Unfortunately . . . the scourge of fame: too many creepy individuals have the pleasure of learning all about your life." 

That hit home.Draco seemed to realize for the first time that neither Harry nor Alice were at all wet."What happened, Potter?" Draco sneered once more."Did the two of you fall into a bucket of tar?I wouldn't doubt it, with _your coordination skills.Won't it be cute in the headlines, when everyone knows that Potter and Oak have met.They can fight evil forces together.Won't it be sweet?"_

"At least we won't make headlines for illegal substances found under our drawing rooms.Hmmm, Alice, let's go."They walked off, leaving Draco stunned once more.It was a well-known fact that Draco's father had been one of Lord Voledmort's closest confidants.After Voldemort fell from power, Lucius Malfoy denied all involvement in Lord Voldemort's evil plan and managed to convince the Ministry that he had been forced into service.However, many people still doubted his integrity and that of the rest of his family.

Once they were a ways down the street, Harry turned to look at Alice. "You don't wear makeup," he said, suddenly remembering what Malfoy had said.

She looked puzzled."Yes, so?I don't care to look overdone, and my lips are naturally such an unusual color that I needn't wear lipstick of any sort. I would wear one of those popular witch colors, like green or blue, but my friend Lewena said that that would be an absolute pity, to waste such a naturally beautiful color by covering it up.So, I don't wear anything." 

"One last thing . . ."

"Yes?" Alice asked, her eyes querying him.

"Well . . ." he hesitated.A wicked smile spread slowly across his face."You're the Seer.You know my question.Just answer it."

She smiled as well."Yes, I am trying for the Dark Arts job at Hogwarts.I've heard that you also hope to secure a position there."

They had reached the wall.Harry turned to her and his expression showed that he was plainly stunned."How did you know?"

"I'm the Seer," she teased.She then said, "I will see you at five."With that, she disappeared.

"Jumping dragons," Harry said."She knew how to Apparate the whole time."He shook his head in disbelief as he pulled out his wand and tapped the magical brick in the wall.

   [1]: mailto:fiddle_d_d@bolt.com



	2. The Cocktail Party

Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball

# by Hannah

_Once again, all characters are the property of J.K. Rowling . . . I decided to go ahead and upload the next chapter, because I don't know if I will even have time to do any more of this until after school is outfor the summer.Anyway, enjoy, and remember, you can always e-mail me at [fiddle_d_d@bolt.com][1]! :0)_

# 

# Chapter Two ~ The Cocktail Party

Harry was still dazed when he stepped into the Leaky Cauldron five minutes later.Then it struck him—

"Jumping dragons," he whispered."I forgot to obtain the items from the rest of my list . . ."But Harry was too tired to care."It can wait," he told himself dejectedly.

He slowly began his way up the winding, creaking staircase to the hotel rooms when a thought struck him.

"Tom," he shouted down from the landing, "which room is Miss Oak staying in?"

Tom replied, "Thirteen.But Mr. Potter, I wouldn't disturb her.She asked to be alone."

"Okay," Harry responded."I was just wondering . . ."

Harry opened his door and fell onto his bed, exhausted.He jumped back up immediately, however, for an angry squawk and sharp peck in his back told Harry he had collapsed right on top of Hedwig.

Harry bent down, trying to pacify the angry bird."There, there, now . . . no need to be upset . . ."Harry eased two crumpled letters from her beak.

He opened the first one and mumbled aloud, "Harry, I would absolutely love to come and see you again.I really miss seeing you.I will be at the Leaky Cauldron at 5 o'clock.Hermione."

He glanced at the other piece of parchment resting in his lap.

Harry, I will meet you and Hermione at the Leaky Cauldron, but I won't be able to get there until 5:30.I have a job interview at 4:30 in Diagon Alley.I am temporarily looking into a job as a clerk at Quality Quidditch Supplies.Don't smirk (I know you are), it's only temporary (I hope).I will see you later this evening. 

Ron

Harry was laughing uncontrollably."Quality Quidditch Supplies?" he shouted, pounding the bed with his fist."That's a laugh!Oh, Ron!"

Suddenly, a woman's voice came from the room next."Please, quiet down.I must concentrate—"A moan issued forth.

Now the rooms in the Leaky Cauldron were numbered oddly.Harry had the room on the farthest left, number three, and from there going in a rightward direction were labeled 13, 23, 33, 43, 53, 63, 73, 83, and 93, respectively.In a sudden burst of intuition unusual for so tired a mind, Harry realized that the room next to his contained none other than Alice.

Harry raised himself to his knees while remaining on the bed, leaning against the wall.The plaster was cool against his cheek."You okay?" he asked through the thin partition.

"Fine, please, leave me be," she moaned back.There was another loud wail and a thump, like she had fallen on the floor.

Harry couldn't sit there any longer.He jumped up, ran out of his room, and tried the door to the right of his.It was locked._What the hell is going on? Harry asked himself as he tried the door again.His efforts were fruitless._

Harry stuck his hand down his pocket and pulled out his wand.He tapped the lock and mumbled something, and it magically opened itself.He found himself in a very tidy, elegant room.The bed was ebony with gold inlay, the desk matching, and the hangings at the windows and the draperies on the bed were black silks embroidered with the same gold trimming.He found her sprawled on a black rug, also with golden accents. She was flailing her arms about, seemingly fighting her own limbs, wailing, "No, Sal, I won't let you!No!"Her white fist punctuated her confused murmurings with sharp banging on the wooden floor beside her.Her hair was snarled beneath her, and her pale face was pinched in agony.It appeared, if at all possible, even whiter than he had seen it before, in the streets of Diagon Alley.She didn't even look like the same woman.She turned in Harry's direction, and her eyes snapped open.Her pupils were dilated to nearly twice their normal size, and the purple eyes contained a feverish gleam.She stared blankly at him for a moment, and then whispered through her stunned state, "Please, give me my wand.It's on the bedside table."

Harry walked briskly toward the nightstand, also ebony, and picked up an ebony wand, inlaid with gold.He could hear her thrashing around behind his back, moaning.He quickly made his way back toward her and handed her the wand.She closed her eyes and her lips began to move.Slowly, her muscles seemed to relax.She took a very deep breath and the wand dropped to the floor.

"Thank you," she whispered, putting a hand to her forehead.She lay, like so, for a few moments, and then struggled to a sitting position.She was, however, so fatigued that even this seemed a draining task.Leaning against the bed, she heaved for breath, her energy drained.Her white face had, impossibly, gone even whiter than it had previously been.

"You're alright, then?" Harry asked, obviously concerned.What the hell had just happened to her?

"Yes, I'll be fine.I just . . . have some slight problems every now and then.It's a curse, somewhat . . . I've been having such seizures for a number of years now."She opened her eyes, which had returned to normal.She managed to stand up rather shakily."I'll be fine in a few moments.I just need a chance to regain my strength."She almost toppled over, and had to reach for the bed for support.

"You're sure?Absolutely certain?"

"Yes, I am," she replied, nodding weakly.She lowered herself to the bed.She took one last deep breath and looked at him, her eyes showing her fatigue."Listen, I can handle it now . . . besides, your friend Hermione should be here any minute now.But I must ask that you do not interfere next time that this happens.I cannot help it; it must run its course.The spells only speed up the process, but they are very draining.Promise me?"Her eyes were filled with some unnamable emotion: fear?

"Okay, I won't bother you anymore.But if it gets too bad . . ."Harry looked down at his wristwatch."Yeah, just eight minutes 'til five.You're supposed to come down with me, anyhow.Remember?You said you'd join us."

She flashed a weak smile, her eyes half closing again."So I did.I'll be down in a moment.I just need a few minutes to . . . freshen up."

Harry nodded and made for the door.Alice got up off the bed and made her way to the black and gold bathroom.Harry turned around and said, "I guess you were really ill, eh?You didn't lie when you decided not to go to the demonstration."

Alice looked at him, her eyes full of that same emotion."Yes, you're right.But this isn't your normal illness.Indeed, it is no illness at all.'Tis exceedingly worse.Even so, I've said much more than I ought.I will see you in a few minutes."With that, she turned and left.

Harry was puzzled.What was wrong with her?What disease could possibly do _that_ to you?Did it have anything to do with her being a Seer?He had heard that certain curses could cause you to have seizures and hallucinations, but he had never seen anything so frightening as that.Who was Sal?What had happened to her eyes?What had seemed to scare her so?But he had no answers to his numerous questions as he walked down the stairway.

Harry sat down at a barstool absentmindedly.He nodded to Tom, who came over to him."Do you need anything, Mr. Potter?"

"No, thank you.I will in a few minutes, however.Remember?Hermione and Ron are coming . . ."

"Oh yes, I had forgotten.I will be sure to be there to help you.Just call me over when you need me."

Tom bustled off.

Harry sat in silence for a few moments, until a large gust of wind told him that the door had opened.He turned around to find Hermione walking into the room, her scarf and jacket soaked through.

Her clothes looked almost as bedraggled and dreary as his own.Apparently everyone from their class was struggling to make a living, even superiorly intelligent Hermione.Life seemed much harder in the wizarding world than that of the Muggles.

She was walking towards Harry, arms outstretched.Harry received her in a warm embrace."Sit down, Hermione.God, you must be freezing," he said, pulling out a barstool for her to sit on.

She lowered the hood of her jacket, revealing her short brown hair, cut in a paperboy-style that framed her tanned face.Her eyes flashed with happiness.

She looked around her."Where's Ron?" she asked of Harry.

"He said he'd be a bit late.He's . . ." Harry suppressed a giggle."He's . . . applying for a temporary job at Quality Quidditch Supplies."He couldn't control himself any longer.He laughed hysterically.

"Oh, yes, I remember him telling me that, now . . ." she replied in a somewhat dreamy manner.Harry was about to inquire as to how she found out, but suddenly, all conversation in the cozy bar stopped.Everyone turned toward the stairway.

Down came Alice, as composed as ever, a small smile flitting across her face.Harry didn't even recognize her from the woman he had seen ten minutes before.Her hair had then been disheveled and snarled, her face drawn with pain, fatigue, and fear, and her eyes aglow with fever.This was indeed the same woman he had met in the shop earlier this afternoon.

Slowly, the people in the room began to talk again.Most of them were whispering about the woman who had just made her way down the stairs.

"Did you see her?Do you know who she is?"

"Alice Oak, she calls herself!The equal, if not better, of Harry Potter!"

"Ain't she gorgeous?"

She slowly made her way to the counter and slid onto a barstool by Harry.She smiled at Hermione."You must be Hermione," she said cordially.She offered a thin hand to be shaken.

Even Hermione was thunderstruck."And you, of course, would be Alice Oak.I can't believe I'm finally meeting you.I've read about you for the longest time.You've defeated You-Know-Who several times just recently, have you not?"

"I don't like to gloat about Voldemort.Let's please change the subject," she curtly replied."Where is your friend Ron?" she asked Harry, changing the subject conveniently in his favor.Before Harry could answer, she answered her own question."Oh yes, I forgot.He's applying to Quality Quidditch Supplies, isn't he?The poor fellow, he'll be so disappointed."Her mouth turned down at the corners.

"Why?" Hermione asked, puzzlement crossing her face.

"He won't get the job," Alice replied matter-of-factly.She sighed."He should try Ollivander's.They're looking for employers."

Hermione looked at Harry."Excuse us for a moment, Miss Oak."

"Yes.Call me Alice," she responded.

Hermione left the table with Harry.They walked over to a corner of the bar and she looked at him oddly. 

"Are you crazy?Do you know who she is?Why is she treating me so coldly?Harry, I know you don't like extra attention, so why are you hanging around with _her, of all people?She'll increase your admirers tenfold.I mean, just about _everyone_ who's _anyone_ knows who she is."_

Hermione looked Harry in the eye, one eyebrow raised."Hmm?What do you know about her?Anything?Do you know how powerful she is?There's no way you can ever feel at home with her around!She's hardly human."

"Funny thing, that, Hermione . . . I feel very comfortable around her.However, I don't feel I can say the same for you at the moment."Harry said this all quite lightly, but deep down, Hermione could tell that he was more than a little peeved with her.His green eyes contained a malicious fire reminiscent of the time that she and Ron had poured a whole package of chili peppers into his tea when he had a rather nasty sore throat.

"Harry, I don't want to bother you about it, but she is always away on _some evil-fighting mission, and she's always traveling, and I don't think that she's the best person to hang out with.And for some reason, she, well . . . she unnerves me."Hermione said the last part meekly._

Harry looked at her with a look of anger in his eyes."Unnerves you?You've been with her a minute and she _unnerves you?Give her a chance, will you?She's the Seer, not you.You left Divination during our third year, for crying out loud!"_

"Great, another Professor Trelawny."Hermione rolled her eyes.Professor Trelawny had been the Divination teacher at Hogwarts.She wasn't a very good Seer.As a matter of fact, many of the students and staff believed her a hoax.

Harry grabbed Hermione by the shoulders, startling her.He shook her severely."Listen, leave her be!She has so far been nothing but a wonderful person, and until I have reason to question her integrity, I will do nothing of the sort!Now leave me be."He strode in a very upset manner back to the long bar counter where Alice sat, tapping her feet somewhat impatiently.Her eyes were half-closed and her head rested in one creamy hand that was propped against the wooden counter.

Hermione followed him, her eyes full of injured pride.She sat down beside Harry, scooting her stool as far as she could from Alice.

Alice smiled sleepily at her."It's okay, Hermione.I have no intentions of stealing Harry's friendship from you.Goodness gracious!We only met today."Her violet eyes were warm and shimmered sweetly as she opened them slowly.Hermione looked away.She sensed that they mocked her.

"I'll be back in a bit.I need a breath of fresh air," she said weakly.

Hermione made for the door.Harry looked after her.

"Wait!"Alice had slowly stood up and made her way towards Hermione, who had stopped at the sound of her voice.

"It's wet out there.This will help."

From thin air, Alice extracted a long golden cape that was embroidered with black silk.She smiled."It will repel water.Come back soon." Alice handed her the cloak, and Hermione took it unwillingly, realizing that she really had no other option.Without a word, she turned and walked toward the door.

Alice strode back to Harry.She sat down, grinning."I don't think she likes me," she admitted, not looking too perturbed by this revelation.

Harry smiled back."She's just jealous.She'll get over it.There's just not much competition for a person like her."

"I'm not so sure she'll get over it . . . Look!There's Ron!"

Harry turned toward the window out front and, true enough, Ron was running towards them.The door opened, another cold gust of wind issued forth, and Ron was sprinting towards Harry, panting.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked, as soon has he had regained his breath.

"That's a nice welcome for one's best friend," Harry teased.

Alice stood up, not noticed by the obviously preoccupied Ron.

"Sorry," Ron said, sitting down on Hermione's barstool."Hi."He grinned sheepishly at his friend.He then looked up and saw Alice standing there."Hi!Who are . . ."Realization struck him and he just sat there, open mouthed."You're . . ." 

She smiled."Yes, I am.Pleased to meet you, Mr. Weasley."She offered him her hand.He took the slender, white hand that was proffered him; it was quite cold, even in his freezing one.

"Please, call me Ron.My, you must be chilled to the bone!" he exclaimed."Let me get you something . . . gin?Sherry?Wine?Champagne?"

She laughed."Tea, please.Mint, if they have it.I'll be right back.I must go and get something."

She stood and walked up the stairs, toward her room.Ron shouted through the rather noisy room, "Tom!Tom?Can you mix up a cup of mint tea for Miss Oak?"

"Yes, just a moment, Mr. Weasley," Tom said, bustling towards them.

The room was rather thick with cigar smoke and the gentle buzz of much gossip.The Leaky Cauldron was the ideal place to spend a damp evening.The atmosphere was light, even if the room was dim, and the service was warm and friendly.The rather shabby surroundings lent to the air of homey comfort.The pale wooden boards that made up the floor were damp with the rain trod from outside, and the musty odor of rain coats and umbrellas issued from the coat closet in one corner.

Tom placed a cup of tea onto the counter in front of Alice's seat."There you go.Do you know what she'd like with it?Cream?Sugar?"

"I'm not sure," Ron confessed, "you'd better just leave it plain.She can add anything she wants." 

Tom walked off to help the next customer.

Hermione stepped back into the room, still in a bad mood.Her temper seemed to lift slightly at the sight of Ron, whom she embraced and told, "I'm so glad to see you!It's been too long . . ."Ron laughed.

"If you consider two days a long time . . . but I've missed you too, my dearest Hermione."

Hermione beamed at him and sat down in Alice's seat, since Ron had taken hers.She asked the others, "Is this Miss Oak's drink?I've read that she likes sugar in hers.Did Tom put anything in it?"

"No," Ron replied."But you're welcome to put some in it for her . . ."

Hermione took a vial of white granules out of her robes."There. Sugar."She poured a good amount into the mug and stirred it with a spoon sitting nearby."Now it will be all ready for her to drink when she comes back down."

As if on cue, Alice stepped back down the stairs, her odd wand in one hand and a wizard's chess set in the other."Hello again, Hermione!" she said warmly, setting the two items on the counter.Harry, Hermione, and Ron looked at the queer assortment of items."I thought that we might play a duel or two and a game of chess.What do you say?" She smiled that sweet grin of hers again.Hermione nodded."I'm up for a duel."

Ron grinned."I'm undefeated when it comes to wizarding chess!"He laughed."I'll play, but don't run away crying!You have been warned!"

Alice smiled."Perhaps you've met your match tonight."

Hermione looked horrified."That will be the day pigs fly!" she managed to say.

"I saw pigs fly in Albania once.It was quite an ugly curse."She looked around and realized that there were no chairs left.Harry made to get up and offer his to her, but she lifted an arm into the air and a chair fell softly to the floor.

She picked up her tea, and almost took a sip when she set it back down.She stated quietly, "There's dromewort in my tea."

Harry looked at her with horror on his face."Who in heaven would put dromewort in your tea?"

Ron stared at her blankly."Dromewort?What's that?"

"A rather strong sleeping herb, and it just so happens that if I were to take a sip from this tea, I would die."

She put the cup down.Harry looked at her inquisitively."Why would you die?"

"Let's just say that I'm allergic to it."She shot Hermione a poisonous glance."Miss Granger, you've been awfully quiet this whole time.What's wrong, cat got your tongue?"

Hermione stared at her, virulence equally visible in her eye."No, but I believe, Alice, that people can be allergic to freezewort, and even gorewort, but I have never heard of an allergy to dromewort."

"There is a first for everything," Alice replied.She smirked."What do you say to a duel, betwixt you and I?"

Hermione looked like this would be the easiest thing she had ever accomplished."Of course.But prepare to be defeated.What are your rules?"

"No serious, irreversible damage."A slow smile slid across her face."My second is Harry.You can have Ron.But no untimely deaths, please."

Hermione wouldn't show that she was, deep down inside, shaking.She raised her wand.Alice picked up her ebony wand with the gold inlay."Ready?" she asked.

Hermione nodded."Oh yes," she replied, smirking.

"Harry, will you tell us when to start?"

"Yes," Harry responded, looking slightly uneasy.The group moved into the empty clearing in the middle of the large room.All activity about them drew to a stop as everyone turned around to watch what was happening.A deathly silence fell over the room.Harry murmured, "One, two, three . . . go!"

Hermione's mouth opened, but Alice's never had to do so.A spurt of green sparks burst out of the end of her wand, and Hermione was suddenly covered in a green, glowing goo.The slime was seemingly crawling all over her, making funny sucking noises.Hermione was trying to say something, but the vile substance had her bound and gagged in the most efficient way anyone in the bar had ever seen.She looked around at the silent faces surrounding her, her eyes wide with fear and surprise.Nobody spoke; their eyes were all fixed on the dueling pair, or dueling person.Hermione was fairly helpless in her current condition.

Another stream of sparks burst forth from Alice's wand, this time pink.They seemed to meld with the green stuff covering her, and suddenly, she was dancing about the room in a very comical tango.She looked shocked, and as though she was willing her limbs to stop their odd jig.It was an eerie sight.Grimly, Alice willed another spurt of violet sparks from her wand, which made Hermione's head shrink to half its original size.Hermione shot Ron a pleading look from halfway across the room, where she had been magically partnered with a broom for dancing.

"Enough!" Ron finally shouted.Alice looked at him, one eyebrow raised, her eyes lacking any visible emotion.She shot some more sparks at Hermione, this time yellow, and she fell to the ground in a dazed heap, all trace of the slime gone, the broom clanging to the floor beside her.

As soon as Hermione found her voice, she croaked, "How the hell did you just do that?"

Alice smiled."Well, I am a very powerful witch.Even so, the gold inlay helps.It increases the speed of the spells as they are channeled through one's wand.But even that has its downfalls. It drains you of more energy that way."

She collapsed into her seat."Tom, could you bring me another cup of tea?Mint, please . . . a teaspoon of sugar and a tablespoon of cream."

She looked at Ron."Chess?"

"Sure," he replied enthusiastically.He reached for the set, and then stopped abruptly."You won't make me dance a waltz or anything, will you?"

She smiled."Of course not.Even so, I am a fairly mean strategist."

Ron laughed."That doesn't worry me one bit.I'm the best there ever was!"He set up his pieces and began whispering commands to them.Alice apparently needn't do so; Harry assumed that telepathy was among her unsettlingly voluminous collection of skills.Ron's interlude with the pieces was brief; he straightened up and waited for Alice to finish.Alice shot a glance at him, composed her face as though making one more command, and brushed several wavy golden strands of hair from her pale face.As she did so, however, her pieces did something unsettling—they laughed.Alice smiled innocently at Ron, who looked rather perturbed.

"You're white, Ron, so you go first."

Ron was slightly unnerved now.His pawn moved forward.Alice's knight made a regal entrance.Ron's knight also entered play.Alice moved a pawn.Ron moved his knight.Alice moved hers.

Ron now leaned over and whispered another command to his pieces.He was slightly worried now; he had never met anyone as good as Miss Oak at chess.He was going to clarify things a bit . . .

Ron's pawn moved forward, and Alice's queen leapt upon it.Ron looked up at her, a look of twisted confusion on his face.Her face was impassive as she smiled at Ron."It's the way of the game, Ron.Things like that will happen."

It was true; Ron captured Alice's bishop in the next few turns.He leaned down for a conference with his pieces, which were looking at him skeptically by now.Alice's knight, meanwhile, made for Ron's rook.Ron looked up just in time to see his piece go down with a painful blow to its head.

Ron thought it odd that she never leaned down and talked to her pieces.But then, he realized, it wasn't necessary.Whenever her move came about, she would stare at her pieces with an unwavering gaze, and one of them would move forward.Ron realized that she didn't need to verbally command them: she could command them through signals from her brain.

Ron made another move.By now, he was quite nervous.He was shaking badly, and he was somewhat muddled.He obviously couldn't think clearly, because he made a lethal move.

Ron's bishop moved a few squares forward.Before that moment, Harry and Hermione had watched in silence as the two played.But at this moment, Hermione jumped from her seat and shouted, "No, Ron!Don't do that!She'll—"

But it was too late."Check," Alice stated coolly as her queen slid forward.

Ron's brow was creased with thought._Where should I move?He finally moved his king over a square to the left._

"Check," she said in the same measured tone.

Ron was sweating so badly that he could hardly think.He moved his queen in front of his king.

"Check," Alice said in a clipped manner, capturing his queen.

Ron moved his queen to capture her's . . .

"Checkmate," she said resolutely, standing up and stretching languorously.She seemed quite unaware of the rather blubbery look that was washed across Ron's face.He looked stunned, hurt, and confused.He had never been beaten . . . not by anyone.And in so short a time!But now . . . he looked up at the woman standing before him, and the question just popped out:

"How did you do that?"

"Let's just say I know things . . ."

Hermione stood up.Her voice quivered with rage when she spoke."How dare you?" she demanded."How dare you!You first make a fool of me, the top in my year at Hogwarts, and then you humiliate Ron.You just ruined his undefeated reputation.You made me feel like a bumbling idiot at dueling.How could you?You knew all that time that neither of us stood a chance against you!And still you went through with it . . . how _could_ you?"

Hermione's eyes fixed Alice with a look of utmost hatred.

Alice answered, quite collectedly, "Well, you see, I didn't make you look like a fool, because you might not of known this, but . . . you never were the top student of your year at Hogwarts.And as for Ron . . ."Alice shot Ron a look of sympathy.". . . I must admit, I shouldn't have, but I read his thoughts and knew where to move my pieces, thanks to him . . . I wouldn't count that as a fair win on my part."She looked at him again, her eyes begging him for forgiveness.She was rewarded with a smile.

"I don't mind in the least.Could you teach me how to do that?"

Alice laughed.It was a nice, rich sound."I could try."

She looked at Hermione."Forgiven?"

Hermione looked at her quizzically, her rage forgotten for the moment in her hurt pride."What do you mean, I wasn't the top student of my year at Hogwarts?"

Alice looked uncomfortable."Perhaps I've said too much—"

"Heavens, no," Harry said quickly."We wouldn't tell anyone.What is it?"

Alice looked around nervously, as though trying to scan the crowd around her for any eavesdroppers."There was someone at Hogwarts in the year that the three of you entered that they tried to keep secret and hidden from the others."

"Who was it?" Ron queried.

"I cannot tell.I've said too much . . ."

Hermione looked at her oddly again."But—why?"

"Because . . . oh, I don't know . . . please, don't ask . . ."

Harry gazed at her intuitively.He almost whispered, "Was it you?"

Alice smiled.Her mood seemed to lift a bit."No, no, not I.Never I.But I must say, I think it is time for me to retire for the evening.It was a pleasure meeting you both, and I'm certain that I will be seeing you in the near future, so I will now bid you goodnight!"

She smiled at Harry and shook hands with Ron and Hermione, who each accepted her chilled, thin hand with warmth and friendship."We will meet again," she assured them.

She made her way up the staircase, while Ron and Hermione stood below with Harry.All was quiet for a few minutes as all turned over the recent happenings of the night.

Harry interrupted the stillness."So, what did you think of her?" Harry asked his friends.

"She was grand," Ron replied."You're very lucky to be staying in the same building as she."

Hermione looked rather uncomfortable."I don't know . . . there's something about her that makes me uncomfortable . . ."

"Just the fact that she gets a lot of recognition that you don't," Ron teased."Come on, you never were the Divination student.Apparently, she's a Seer.You can't beat that.Talk sense!You're just as wonderful as she is."

Hermione smiled."Yeah, I suppose she's okay.She's quite nice.She's just too perfect!"

"As we've all thought of you for the past seven years.Come on, cheer up," Harry said in a consoling manner."You're still one of the best witches I've ever met."

Hermione threw her arms around Harry and Ron."Thank you, both of you.You're both wonderful friends!"

Ron, looking slightly bashful at such a public display of affection, gently pushed her arm away.He chuckled softly."What are friends for?"

She grinned."Friends like you are just splendid to have around!"She looked at her watch."Oh dear, it's already six.I must get going, I have a job interview tomorrow . . ."

"Not at Quality Quidditch?"

Ron blushed.

"No, actually.There is a vacancy in the Ministry."

Harry looked confused."There wasn't one before—"

"Yes, but there is now."Hermione smiled mischievously."Not jealous, are we?Well, must go.Hope to see you all soon . . ."

With that, she was out the door, the gold cape thrown about her shoulders.

Ron looked after her."That would be neat, if she got the job."

"Yeah, it would." Harry replied firmly.Although he would have liked a job at the Ministry, one at Hogwarts was even better.

Ron patted his friend on the back."She's a nice girl, Alice.You keep hanging with her, okay?It would be a pity to lose someone like her."

Harry grinned."Yeah, I know.Keep in touch."

"Alright."

Ron, too, left the building.

The Leaky Cauldron's business was beginning to die down.Witches and wizards were returning to their homes in London to be with their families.Harry nodded to Tom, saying, "I'll be back for dinner later," and headed up the stairs, utterly exhausted.

He passed the closed door of room thirteen before he entered his own.He decided that he ought to keep an eye on her for the next few weeks, just to be certain that she was all right.

With that last thought, Harry lied down on his bed and fell fast asleep, forgetting about dinner, forgetting about everything except a shining smile and rich laugh that he could not shake from his mind.

   [1]: mailto:fiddle_d_d@bolt.com



	3. The Hogwarts Express

1 Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball  
  
2 by Hannah  
  
3 Chapter Three ~ The Hogwarts Express  
  
Harry kept true to his self-promise. Although he didn't cling to Alice as though he were her shadow, he kept her under close surveillance for the next week and a half that they were there. She didn't have any more of her 'attacks,' as Harry had come to call them, but several mornings she would emerge from her room looking drawn and weak, dark purple circles beneath her eyes speaking far more than she herself would.  
  
Harry had a good time in Diagon Alley. He managed to complete his shopping, although his unsatisfying and small stack of coins underneath Gringotts seemed to steadily diminish. He couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts. He hoped desperately that he could find a job there.  
  
Alice never talked to Harry about her past. Then again, Harry never told her of his. He didn't particularly care to talk of the way that Voldemort had carelessly slain his parents, and the awful years he had spent with the Dursleys after that.  
  
Harry enjoyed his time in the wizarding world. He had spent a lot of his life with the Muggles, or non-magical people, of London. Yet the time came when Harry had to leave.  
  
"Bye, Tom," Harry shouted to the keeper of the Leaky Cauldron as he tugged his trunk out onto the street.  
  
"Bye, Mr. Potter," he replied, nodding in acknowledgement. "I'll see you later!"  
  
Harry lugged his heavy wizarding trunk to the London Underground, where he got aboard and stopped at the train station. There, he managed to make his way through the mobs of people to the space between platforms nine and ten.  
  
It was a tricky business, the accessing of the platform onto the Hogwarts Express. Harry found it the hardest to do when the crowds of people were large, as they were today. He tried to look inconspicuous as he slowly made his way between the people pushing past him to the barrier between the two platforms. He leaned against it, yawning. The next thing he knew, he had fallen through it onto an almost deserted platform. A large column of purple smoke rose from the smokestack of a brightly colored train on an otherwise deserted track.  
  
"All aboard for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" the conductor cried. "We are leaving in five minutes!"  
  
Harry looked at his watch. It was 10:55; he did indeed have only five minutes until the train would leave. He managed to haul his luggage aboard and find a seat in the only empty compartment by the time the train started moving.  
  
Harry settled down in one of the spacious padded seats, ready to relax. He opened his trunk and pulled out the crystal ball, stuck inside an old box. He set it in his lap and examined its container. An old socks carton.  
  
Suddenly, he heard the creak of a door sliding open and the light tap of footsteps making their way towards him. He sat up straight and looked around the corner. He leaned back, relaxing. It was only Alice.  
  
She sat lightly down beside him. "Hello," she said to him. "This was the most empty compartment, so I decided I might as well join you, as long as you don't mind."  
  
"Not at all," Harry responded quickly. "I wasn't really doing much. Just looking at some of the things in my trunk."  
  
Alice looked down at the trunk, examining his worn robes and his meager supply of herbs and such. She then noticed the package in Harry's lap. Alice reached for the small paper box. She carefully opened the flaps with her long red fingernails and gently lifted out a crystal ball.  
  
"Ah, a crystal ball," she remarked, setting it in her lap.  
  
Harry looked at her. "I got it from Hermione, for my birthday. It is well known that neither Ron nor Hermione, nor myself, for that matter, were ever any good at Divination."  
  
"Oh, come on, give it a try," she urged him, handing Harry the crystal orb.  
  
Harry sat it in his lap once more and looked at it resolutely. All he could see in the crystal orb was a mass of swirling mist. He could see nothing more.  
  
"It's no use, I can't see a thing. But—" Harry shot her a glance quickly, "perhaps you would like to try?"  
  
She smiled. "You won't leave me alone, will you? All right . . ."  
  
Alice leaned over and took the ball in her careful hands. She gently set it in her lap and leaned over it. She began moving her hands about it in a skillful way. Harry watched them as they appeared to dance over the ball.  
  
"I see . . ." Her brow furrowed in concentration as she glanced deep into the depths of the crystal, past the mists, past the swirling vortex before her. "I see a great number of things, Mr. Potter. Not all of them are pleasant, mind you. No, you have a hard time coming for you. I see that you will get a job at Hogwarts, so you may cease your worrying. Also, you will befriend someone at Hogwarts . . . someone who will later become your bride. Much hardship follows. Evil comes in large forces, and attacks where you least expect it. A child, so weak, so beautiful. She is so like her mother! Yet her mother disappears from the scenario. Will she come back? You cannot be certain . . . Hogwarts brings much woe. You find yourself alone in the world. People shun you. The corruption comes from the blood, they say. Evil forces are strong. Yet eventually, you find yourself overcoming these problems, you find yourself in the presence of friends, and you eventually are happier, and wiser, than you ever were before."  
  
After this revelation, Alice leaned back, exhausted.  
  
"My bride?" Harry laughed, trying to sound relaxed. "Must be a seventh year, then. Most of the teachers are far too old for me." He tried to picture himself sharing spaghetti with the stern Professor McGonagall, and he ended up laughing again.  
  
She smiled. "Perhaps so, Harry." She glanced quickly at the ball again. "Perhaps so."  
  
Harry realized how somber she looked. "So is all of that true? Can you clarify?" Harry was no longer giddy about the revelations she had made.  
  
"Yes, it is all true, Harry," she replied. "And yes, I could clarify . . . but anything more would be dangerous. Do you understand? I could change the future by telling you what lays there. And that, Harry, would make it far worse for all the parties involved."  
  
"But, my . . . my—wife, as you said . . . will she come back? You said she would disappear and I would be all alone—"  
  
"Harry," she said sternly, "please ask no more. I already have said that I cannot tell you."  
  
"All right," Harry muttered. He sighed. I wish I hadn't asked her to do that . . .  
  
She smiled at him. "Yes, isn't that the way it goes, Mr. Potter? You finally find out the future, and then you want nothing more than to hide from it. Can you imagine my life, Harry? I have to look at each person and see exactly what each one is thinking, all that has happened to him or her, all that will happen, and all that is happening. It is not easy. I would do anything to live a life like yours."  
  
Harry could see the sadness buried deep within her gaze. The unusual eyes that he so loved didn't contain the sparkle that they had when he had first met her in the shop in Diagon Alley. The golden flecks within them reflected the sunlight as she smiled at him. The purple circles were beneath her eyes this morning, almost exactly matching the violet of her irises. She must have had another hard night.  
  
Her smile was fixed as she looked longingly out the window. She heaved a deep sigh.  
  
"Nobody ever understands. Everybody thinks it would be so great to know what is going to happen. Instead, it petrifies me. A wave of cold sweeps over me when I think of what is to happen."  
  
"Is it all that bad?" Harry felt a little anxious. Alice sure was acting strangely.  
  
"Your life is not going to be easy," she repeated. "But then again, neither will mine." Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. "No, mine will be far worse than yours, Harry. Your wife may not always be there, but my husband will want me so much—" she forced a wry laugh—"that it will eat me away. I can't live like that, Harry." Her mouth was twisted into a humorless smile. "I do not mind love . . . but I cannot stand for love when it only hurts. Hurts me and hurts others."  
  
Her eyes seemed to beg him to help her.  
  
"Then don't marry this guy. Marry someone else. Or don't marry anyone."  
  
"That would be even worse." That odd emotion that Harry could only match with fear swept over her eyes once more. She quickly averted her eyes to the window.  
  
"Okay, okay, marry the guy," Harry said quickly. He looked down into his trunk and pulled out a small cage. It contained the rat that Ron had given him for his birthday.  
  
"I hate rats," Harry said, trying to make small talk. "I didn't really want a rat, but Ron gave me this for my birthday."  
  
"I know," she said softly. She put the crystal ball back into its box and set it gently into the trunk at her feet. She then lifted the cage from Harry's hands and set it in her lap.  
  
She undid the fastenings on the cage and the rat strode warily out into her waiting hand. She held it, stroking its black fur softly, avoiding Harry's eyes.  
  
"It isn't so bad," she said, holding it out in front of her face and examining it.  
  
Harry laughed. "You can have it!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Thank you . . . yes, you had a rather nasty experience with rats," she responded, tucking it away in its cage. She reached for her own small trunk, ebony inlayed with gold. Harry thought it odd, how often she seemed to use this combination. She unclasped the golden fleur-de-lis that held it shut and removed a few odd looking items, which she placed ever-so- carefully in her lap.  
  
"These are the things that I have brought with me," she informed him, looked at the objects in her lap. One looked like a very battered rag doll. There was a small pouch that was stained with earth tones, perhaps herbs or dirt or some such things. And then there was a small box that floated above the other objects in her lap. It was a small, clear box that seemed to glow with an eerie purple light. Small flashes of pink light darted across the surface.  
  
Harry stared at it. He had never seen anything remotely like it. "What is it?" he finally managed to ask.  
  
She smiled. "It is a persona imager. It will, with the proper spells, put before you the image of any person you wish. And, if the person is deceased, you may speak to them."  
  
Harry's eyes filled with hunger. Speak to anyone who is dead? he thought to himself. Why, I could speak to my parents!  
  
"Could you . . . demonstrate?" Harry asked her.  
  
She smiled. "Of course. Whom would you like to see first: your mother or your father?"  
  
Harry deliberated, and after a few moments said, "My father."  
  
Alice smiled as though she understood. "Very well . . ."  
  
Alice began to mutter to the box. Suddenly, a brilliant, lime- colored light flashed from it, temporarily blinding Harry. When he was able to once again see, he was staring into the eyes of a miniature of his father.  
  
Harry couldn't believe it. His father, of course, didn't look like a normal person. He was blurred around the edges, and the colors were faded slightly, like something out of a very old newspaper. He smiled up at Harry.  
  
"Hi, son," he managed to choke through the tears streaming down his cheeks.  
  
"Father," Harry breathed. He stuck out a finger to touch him, but it went right through his stomach. Harry felt slightly disappointed; it truly was a mere apparition.  
  
"Harry," his father said again. "I've missed you so."  
  
"So have I," Harry managed to say through the tears that now coursed down his cheeks as well.  
  
"I . . . I must go, son," James Potter said. "I will come back, later."  
  
"Alright," Harry said, sniffling slightly. "Goodbye."  
  
"G'bye," James said. The tiny figure vanished with the same green flash of light.  
  
Harry continued to look at the box. "Wow," he said, sniffling slightly, "I didn't know that anything like that even existed."  
  
"Well, you just have to be aware of the fact that there are a lot of things that many people do not know about," Alice said in a gentle tone. "I just happen to know many of them. I don't think you should see your mother right now. There's plenty of time. Take it slowly."  
  
Harry picked up the rag doll in her lap. "What's—"  
  
Alice saw him holding the doll and snatched it from him, saying in a frightened tone, "Be careful with that. That is very powerful."  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked in a quizzical manner. He looked at the small cloth doll, without face or clothing, which she held out of his reach. It was made of brown muslin and was stained and worn, torn in places.  
  
"It's a very ancient form of body control. It is enchanted so that you may move the doll, which will cause any person you wish to move in the same manner. I also have a male one, buried at the bottom of the chest somewhere. Thank heavens I didn't have it enchanted with anyone's name yet!"  
  
"What good is something like that?" Harry was somewhat suspicious. He thought things like that were only used with spells related to Dark magic.  
  
"Well, you see, this comes in handy if you must remind somebody to do something, or if someone wants a little help, I can help them to run a little faster or jump a little higher. I don't use them often. They have been in my family for ages."  
  
So Alice had to be a pureblood. Or at least a halfblooded wizard. Muggle families couldn't get a hold on such things.  
  
"Anyhow, I think I should put this away," she continued, tucking it very carefully inside the trunk.  
  
Harry's eyes roved to the last item in her lap: the small pouch. It, too, looked like it had survived many a generation of use. It was rather small, perhaps the size of a fist. The leather it was made of was fine and rich, but stained and worn with much use. The small thongs tying it shut were also leather, a knot on each end. She slowly loosed these straps and peered inside the bag.  
  
"What's in there?" Harry asked her.  
  
"Well, nothing at the moment," Alice said. "But . . ." Her face squinched up as a look of concentration crossed her face. "It is now full of gold."  
  
Harry looked at her somewhat oddly. The bag did look like it had more in it now, but he wasn't so sure about gold.  
  
She smiled. "Don't believe me? Go on, look inside." She held out her hand to him.  
  
Harry took the proffered bag. "Alright," he said. He slowly held the bag up to his face and peered inside. Sure enough, the bag was full of golden galleons.  
  
He quickly averted his gaze from the small drawstring-bag. "How'd you do that?"  
  
Alice grinned. "Well, it wouldn't be magic anymore if I told you, now would it?"  
  
Harry looked at her, his eyes pleading.  
  
"Not the puppy-eyed look," she said imploringly.  
  
Harry's mouth drooped down at the corners and he tilted his head to the right.  
  
She laughed good-naturedly. "Alright, alright, I give up. I couldn't fill just any bag with gold. It only works with this one. But it doesn't have to be gold. It could be anything: herbs, photographs, dragonstones. Anything."  
  
Harry smiled. "That wasn't too bad, was it?" he asked her in a playful manner.  
  
"No, I suppose not." She took the bag from his hand and tucked it neatly away into her trunk. He saw several more of her silk robes with the gold braid folded into perfect squares, but her swift and steady hands closed the trunk before he could see anything else.  
  
She looked at the clock that hung on the wallpapered walls of the train. "Only an hour has passed? We have quite a wait ahead of us."  
  
Harry yawned. "I think I will take a nap," he said resolutely, stretching his arms.  
  
"Okay. I will wait 'til we get to Hogwarts."  
  
"Wake me up if the snack-lady comes."  
  
"Maybe. It depends on whether or not you're snoring." She smiled slightly.  
  
Harry lay back. Suddenly, a pillow was beneath his head.  
  
"Sweet dreams." He knew no more.  
  
  
  
Harry awoke with a start. Dusk light was streaming through the window across the isle. All the others had burgundy satin curtains drawn across them. Alice sat in front of this window, reading a book. He couldn't make out its title; someone had removed his glasses.  
  
Alice turned to him, smiling. "Ah, you're awake," she said. She put down her book and walked to the seat beside him. She handed him his glasses from a pocket in her robes. He put them on and blinked a few times.  
  
"You didn't wake me up," he stammered. "Why—"  
  
"Harry, you looked tired," she stated decisively. A look of worry creased her thin face. "Besides, there wasn't anything for you to do. And you were snoring. Anyone who snores has got to be tired."  
  
"I was pretty tired," Harry admitted. He touched his cheek. It felt hot from leaning against the pillow so long.  
  
Alice sighed. It's still an hour until we get there. I think I'll take a short nap." She glided over to an empty chair in the corner and with a quick flick of her wand made the area surrounding her pitch black. "In a while, Harry . . ." she muttered sleepily. He heard her soft breathing, confirming that she was asleep.  
  
Harry leaned back. He was still pretty tired, but at least not bone-weary. He picked up his wand. "Lumos," he whispered, and a faint light glimmered on its end. Reaching down for something to do, Harry's hand found a small book in his trunk. He pulled it out and placed the cover far out in front of him, squinting near-sightedly at the cover. "Famous Hogwarts Teachers and Their Subjects." He remembered having bought this in Diagon Alley shortly before he left. It didn't look intriguing, quite the contrary. Even so, he figured it would be best to have some sort of knowledge of Hogwarts' staff's past before becoming a part of it.  
  
All was uneventful for about a half-hour. Harry managed to get through the first ten pages of the book (it was very heavy reading), and he was on the verge of sleep when he heard a soft voice from across the isle.  
  
Well, by now the train was almost completely dark save the small light shining on the tip of his wand. Harry stiffened as he raised his head slightly, straining his ears for any more sounds.  
  
"No." It was a soft whisper. He heard the slight thrash of a person stirring in their sleep. "Don't do that," the voice whispered. "Please, don't."  
  
Harry knew who it was—Alice. There was a problem though: he didn't know if it was one of her fits, or if it was just a dream. And if it was one of her fits, he had promised not to intervene, whereas if it was a dream, he could awaken her. Harry sat, undecided. He finally came to the conclusion that he should listen, and if it turned out to be a dream, he could make a move.  
  
"Leave him alone, it's me you want!" Her voice was slightly louder now. "Come after me, coward. You know you cannot face me. You know you cannot! What makes him any different?"  
  
Harry was fairly sure it was a dream, but he was too mesmerized by the mystery of the words to move. He was rooted to his seat.  
  
"Fight me. You know you cannot win, do you not? You know you cannot. I am not strong, nay, but I am wise. And that makes up for it, in my world, our world. I can see that you will not. Fight me. Fight me!"  
  
Alice's voice continued to rise, and by now was a harsh shout. "Fight me! If you cannot win me, you will never win Harry!"  
  
Harry's blood turned to ice. She's talking about me, he thought in horror. It's me who she is worried about. Why is she worried about me?  
  
It was as though his name brought him back to life. Alice was screaming hoarsely as Harry leapt from the satin cushion on which he sat. He stumbled about in the darkness, trying to find her, following her voice.  
  
"Leave him be! Leave him be! Oh, leave us all, you demon. You are naught but a coward!"  
  
Harry ran into a row of seats, knocking him to the floor. "Alice!" he shouted. "Alice, wake up!"  
  
Alice continued to shout. By now she was crying as well. He could hear her convulsive sobs. He was just a few seats away . . .  
  
Harry crawled along the thickly carpeted floors, touching all that surrounded him. Finally, he found a length silk dangling in front of him. He felt two chilled legs beneath it.  
  
Pulling himself up to a standing position, Harry found Alice's arm. "Alice," he said in a desperate whisper. "Alice!" He shook her thin, cold arm fiercely. All was black around him. "Damned spell," he muttered.  
  
"Alice!"  
  
Alice stopped crying and gave a small gasp. He felt her arm flail about her. "Strakum luminus!" she cried, and the dark lifted slightly. A bit of moonlight streamed through the window above her seat. She stood up, shaking slightly. Harry could see the tears streaking her cheeks.  
  
She swallowed, and her purple eyes closed. She then swayed a moment where she stood. She lowered herself back down into her seat.  
  
There was silence for a moment. Harry wanted to speak; he wanted to be assured that everything was fine. But something deep within him kept him silent.  
  
"I beg your pardon," Alice said slowly. "Sometimes I have nightmares that are absolutely—" She paused, took a deep breath, and recomposed herself. "Absolutely horrendous. I have no control over them, and oftentimes I awaken and do not remember what they were about."  
  
Harry stood still for a moment, and then whispered, "You said my name."  
  
"What?" Her eyes snapped open. She looked startled, as though he had slapped her.  
  
"You said my name, in your dream."  
  
She averted her gaze to her hands, which were folded in her lap. She sniffed slightly. "If I did, I do not remember."  
  
Something about the tone of her voice told Harry that she wasn't being quite truthful. She knew something that he did not, and it was driving him crazy. He was about to ask her when—  
  
"Hogsmeade Station, five minutes. Please gather your belongings and prepare to dismount."  
  
Harry looked at Alice for a moment, and then headed off for his luggage. He hauled his trunk and the cage containing Hedwig to the door of their compartment. "You coming?" he asked in a slightly exasperated tone.  
  
"Yes, just a moment. Please, go ahead." She continued to sit in the seat, head down, eyes averted. Something in her voice seemed strained and tired. Like she wanted nothing more than a moment alone and a bit of uninterrupted sleep.  
  
"Very well," Harry said. "I'll see you in a few moments." He left the compartment, the train slowed to a stop, and he threw his luggage to the ground before jumping to the platform. He looked up at the dark sky that was speckled with gleaming stars. Idly walking over to a column, he leaned against it and began to mull over what had happened over the past few days.  
  
Alice seemed to be getting more and more tired. The purple circles under her eyes were growing darker daily, and then there was the episode today in the train car . . .  
  
Harry glanced over at the other people on the platform. Everyone seemed to be out now, but he still didn't see Alice. Then he saw her stumble into view. She was still in the doorframe. She held her heavy trunk in one hand, rubbing her eyes will the other. Harry rushed over to assist her with her baggage.  
  
"Thank you," she muttered wearily as a bevy of carriages drew up beside the dozen people on the platform.  
  
Harry hauled his luggage, as well as Alice's trunk, over to the carriage. He helped the driver fasten it upon the roof and squeezed in beside Alice. The carriage took off and minutes later Alice was dozing lightly against Harry's shoulder.  
  
After a short ride, The carriages stopped and the drivers opened the doors. Harry shook Alice awake and stepped outside, offering her his arm for support.  
  
Harry smiled as he gazed at the dark turrets rising before him. He was at Hogwarts. He was home. 


	4. History Mystery Solved

1 Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball  
  
By Hannah  
  
2 Chapter Four ~ History Mystery Solved  
  
Hogwarts was an old castle built many centuries ago. It was made of large stones, and was a twisting maze of corridors, rooms, and staircases. It seemed that the very architecture was magical: often times one would awaken and the armor down the hall would suddenly be a floor down by the staircase. The many towers and balconies made it very easy to get lost. A few lights glimmered from windows far above.  
  
Harry grabbed the luggage once more and placed it in a small rowboat on the shore of a very large lake. He helped Alice settle in (she was half- asleep) and sat down himself. Two more people sat down with them and the small boat took off at a breakneck speed.  
  
Harry introduced himself to the two passengers ("Harry Potter? Really? I heard you were going to be here . . . oh! I can't believe I'm actually talking to you . . ."), and also introduced Alice, who had fallen asleep again ("Alice Oak? Oh, I've heard so much about her . . . Of course, she doesn't get the recognition she deserves over here! What a pleasure: the two of you! At one time!").  
  
Harry learned that the woman was Patsy Pilner, and the man Frank Reede. Patsy was a rather plump, stout young witch with blonde hair coiled in two tight buns on each side of her head. She was dimpled and smiled a lot. Her robes were dark burgundy cotton, and she smelled like stewed herbs.  
  
Frank was a likable character; Harry took to him immediately. He was tall and gaunt, somewhat pale, and had thick black hair slicked back with gel. His eyes were a bright green with traces of brown, and his smile was rare but wonderful. He had a rather deep voice that seemed to resonate within Harry's chest.  
  
"So, what job are you hoping for?" Harry asked the two.  
  
"Oh, I want the new job called 'Safety in Magic,'" Patsy piped up. "It sounds like such a neat job, helping all those first years to always be safe."  
  
Frank smiled wryly. "I was hoping for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I've heard that Miss Oak is applying for that job, and I don't think I'd stand much of a chance. Snape still covers potions, I believe, so that leaves me with relatively little choice. Maybe I'll try for Arithmancy. It all depends on what they ask. You don't really choose, you just give your suggestion as to which job you ought to hold." Frank said this all in a rather bored voice.  
  
"Now what new courses are they adding?" Harry asked.  
  
The little witch piped up, "There's Safety in Magic, History of Spells and Potions, Magic in Medicine, and the vacancy in Dark Arts. Really, I don't believe they've added courses in a century or two. But three new ones! I wonder what is going on . . ."  
  
Harry was thinking. What job should he try for? Only four vacancies and twelve applicants. Eight would be turned down. He knew he wouldn't be one of them; Alice had told him that much and he trusted her. Would she get a job? Would Frank? Would Patsy?  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Oh, sorry," Harry said, realizing that Frank was addressing him. "Sorry."  
  
"That's quite all right," he responded crisply. "Which job do you want?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the History one," he replied dreamily.  
  
Alice stirred beside him. They were almost at the dock as it was. She took a deep breath and stretched. Her purple eyes snapped open, the golden flecks within them reflecting the moonlight. "Hello everyone," she said through a yawn.  
  
Harry was pleased to see that she looked somewhat refreshed. "Good nap?"  
  
"Oh, I feel much better," she replied. "Hi," she said to Frank and Patsy.  
  
"Hello," Frank said, offering his hand. She took it in hers. "My, your hand is almost as cold as mine," she remarked. Patsy also offered her hand; Alice pumped it warmly.  
  
"Well, I must say that I am feeling much more perky. I wonder, are we having our interviews tonight or tomorrow?"  
  
"I hope tomorrow," Patsy said nervously. "I would feel much better after a good night's sleep."  
  
"Wouldn't we all?" Frank said matter-of-factly.  
  
Harry looked at her. "I would rather have them tonight. Then we could leave tomorrow if we don't get the positions."  
  
"Yes, I'm certain they'll be tonight," Alice said, smiling at them all.  
  
Patsy looked at her quizzically. "How do you know?"  
  
"She's a Seer," Harry said quickly.  
  
Frank looked amused. "Really? I've never met a Seer before."  
  
Alice smiled, but not pleasantly. "Yes, well, now you have."  
  
She turned to Harry. "Looks like we're docking."  
  
Sure enough, Harry looked over his shoulder and saw the dock a few feet away. He picked up the two trunks and threw them onto it, and then gently plucked up Hedwig. The bird seemed slightly ruffled by the long journey.  
  
"It's only seven," Harry said, yawning. "I'm already completely exhausted. And now the interviews?"  
  
Patsy managed to struggle out of the boat. "Yes, I know how you feel."  
  
Alice stole lithely from the boat. She stood on shore, her head held high as she looked about her. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw opened slightly, her hands beginning to shake. Harry was worried that she was going into one of her attacks, but then she muttered, "Jumping dragons, if it isn't—"  
  
Strolling away from Harry, she grinned and opened her arms. "Why, it's been so long—"  
  
"I know," a familiar voice replied. Harry turned to see who it was. Harry smiled as well. It was Professor Lupin. He used to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, during Harry's third year, but was thrown out for being a werewolf.  
  
Alice embraced the man. His cloak was tattered, his robes patched and faded. His brown hair was graying due to the stress of being a werewolf. His thin face was pale and his eyes laughed as he said, "I'm so glad to see you, Alice. How have you been? I've been seeing an awful lot of you in the newspapers."  
  
She smiled, drawing away. "Oh, you monster. Stop talking about it. You haven't been sending owls lately . . ."  
  
"I know, I know," Lupin stated. "I've been doing a lot of research."  
  
"Of how to stop your werewolf transformations?"  
  
Lupin nodded grimly.  
  
"Why won't you listen to me? I keep telling you that I know how to cure you. Stop stressing over it. Tomorrow, okay? I'll work the spell tomorrow."  
  
Lupin's eyes filled with tears. "Really? Can you really stop it?"  
  
"Of course, silly. Have I ever lied to you?"  
  
"No," he said. He then smiled at her. "I was going to try for the Dark Arts job, but I hear that you are trying for it. What job do you think I should take?"  
  
She poised thoughtfully for a moment, and then said, "You know what? I dunno." She laughed lightly.  
  
"Oh well. Who did you hang out with on your way over here?"  
  
"You'll never guess."  
  
"You would know," he said jokingly. "Come on, who?"  
  
"Harry Potter. Why don't you say hello?"  
  
"Harry?" Lupin's eyes grew wide. He turned around in excitement, scanning the small group of people waiting for someone to come from the castle to greet them. His eyes landed on Harry, smiling at him a few feet away.  
  
"Harry!" he shouted, running toward him. Harry grinned and hugged the man.  
  
"Professor Lupin," he exclaimed, "how nice to see you. How have you been?"  
  
"Quite well, thank you. Yourself?"  
  
"Not bad, Professor."  
  
"Come now, Remus, lad. Call me Remus."  
  
"All right—Remus."  
  
"There you go." Lupin pulled away from Harry. "So, I suppose Snape is still here."  
  
"Of course," Harry said wryly. Professor Snape was a long-time rival of Harry's father, James, and his friends, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. A long time ago, Sirius had pulled a prank on Severus Snape that could have killed him. Fortunately, James Potter had pulled him out of the mess. Even so, Snape had been resentful ever since.  
  
"Speak of the devil," Lupin muttered as he watched a few approaching figures.  
  
Harry recognized Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, right away. His long silver beard and half-moon spectacles made him hard to miss. He also saw Professors McGonagall and Snape headed toward them. Snape was smiling foul- temperedly. No doubt he was jealous of whoever would get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job this year.  
  
Alice smiled as the trio approached. "Hello," she shouted, running over to them. "How have you been?"  
  
Much to Harry's surprise, McGonagall threw her arms around her as though a daughter. "Wonderful. And you?"  
  
"Just fine." She turned to Dumbledore and said, "And how are you, my bumblebee?"  
  
"I'm quite well. I see you've met Harry?"  
  
She laughed. "Yes, he's been keeping his eye on me. He's worried."  
  
Dumbledore looked somber. "Why is that?"  
  
Alice bit her lip. "My fits are getting worse."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "I thought they were getting better, and that you were recovering."  
  
"So did I." She said this softly, a touch of sorrow in her voice.  
  
Snape smirked. "So, the girl still has nightmares in her sleep?"  
  
Alice smiled falsely. "And how are you, dear Professor? Wait a moment—why am I calling you 'professor?' If I get this job, it will be Severus, won't it?"  
  
Snape's cold smile turned to a frown quickly. "Watch your tongue, girl."  
  
"Girl, girl," Alice mimicked, rolling her eyes. Harry tried to suppress a laugh. He didn't manage it.  
  
Snape turned on his heel and confronted Harry, standing close to him. "So, Potter, I see you are still learning the lesson of holding one's tongue?"  
  
"So much to say about tongues, eh . . . Severus? You really ought to learn to hold yours. If you want the Dark Arts job so badly, why don't you apply? Do you just love to woo over the job all year long?" Alice looked at him, all laughter gone from her eyes, her right brow raised. It seemed that she was fine with Snape bothering her, but once it extended to others . . . he'd better beware.  
  
Snape seemed slightly taken aback by this. "I would apply, it's just . . . well . . ."  
  
McGonagall glanced quickly around, looking for some way to change the conversation. "Okay," she declared in a loud voice, "I would like to welcome each and every one of you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If you would follow Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Snape, and myself, I would be much obliged. We will interview all of you tonight, and those of you who do not make it may leave on the train tomorrow."  
  
There were several groans. Most people were aware of the fact that Harry and Alice were there, and that they were some of the most renowned magicians of the century.  
  
The professors took off, and the small crowd of people followed them through the mist to the heavy wooden doors of Hogwarts. They seemed to swing open of their own accord, and Harry, Alice, Frank, Lupin, Patsy, and the others were led down numerous hallways and staircases until they were in a large conference room that Harry had never before seen.  
  
They seated themselves in the red satin-upholstered chairs positioned around a large, rectangular, cherry wood table and waited for Dumbledore to speak. He strode up to a podium at the front of the room and said, "I would like to open by thanking you all for coming. We will now begin the interviews. I would like you to all hear the credentials of every man and woman present, so as to understand whom you are up against. Now, who would like to go first?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled as no one in the room moved. "Oh, certainly someone wants to get it over with . . . no? All right, then I will just have to choose a victim. How about . . . Alice."  
  
Alice flinched. "If I didn't happen to know that arguing would do no good . . ." Alice stood and walked to the podium. Dead silence.  
  
She swallowed and flicked her wrist. A pitcher, ebony and gold, appeared on the table beside her. Another flick and a crystal glass accompanied it. One more and the pitcher began pouring water into the glass, stopping when it was full. Alice reached over and took a sip. She set the glass back down quietly.  
  
"Where shall I begin?" she asked Dumbledore.  
  
"I suppose the beginning is the best," he replied.  
  
"Okay . . . the beginning. That's a hard one. I was born a pureblood in America, the South. My parents, Englanders, died when I was just a babe, and a family in the local area took me in. From there, I moved to many different places: New York, California, Texas, Illinois, England, Scotland . . . so many that I have lost track. See, nobody wanted me. I was . . . different. As you know, many purebloods look rather different compared to Muggles. My white skin and odd eyes were a dead give- away that I wasn't the same as the other kids. But then . . . well, when I was in the first grade, I began acting oddly, too. I started having odd moments a few times a day where a could read a person's thoughts, just for a moment, as they passed me, or I could see things in the future or past in my head. I was terrified. I had no idea as to what was going on. And neither did any of the Muggle parents. As I grew older, they realized I had no need for school, for I could see the answers clearly shaped in my head. My gift became more refined as I grew older, and I could rack the large stores of knowledge within me for specific events. I could focus my attention on one thing. I learned, to some extent, to control it, and to only see what I wanted to see. But still, in my dreams, I have not control . . ."  
  
Alice was running out of breath. She swallowed again and took another sip of water. "Anyhow, I was in New York for the second time when a letter arrived. It was from Hogwarts; I had been invited there. Even though my Muggle foster parents had no idea that a wizarding world even existed, I don't think they were too surprised. I mean, I was so different . . . Anyhow, I went off to Hogwarts promptly.  
  
"I suppose that that would all seem fairly normal and well, but it wasn't the end of my oddities. I arrived there, and the sorting ceremony took place. Yet for some reason, Dumbledore didn't want me to partake in the ceremony with the rest. He wanted me to wait. I suppose he thought that I belonged in Gryffindor, for that is the house my mother was in, but it ended up working out differently. After the evening's festivities, I put on the hat, and . . . nothing. Nothing happened. I sat there for a half an hour, but the hat didn't whisper anything in my ear, or shout out any house . . . it just sat there."  
  
Harry was staring at her, unable to remove his eyes from her. She looked slightly flustered. Many of the people sitting out there had been Hogwarts students, and never had they heard of this happening.  
  
"Well, Dumbledore kept me here, and I learned lessons throughout the day, privately. Yet Hogwarts was like my Muggle classes: I knew everything already. I spent a few years here, helping some of the teachers grade papers (I could tell them who had gotten what on whichever assignment without glancing at it). Anyhow, I left after my fourth year, and at fifteen, set off into the world.  
  
Now, knowing all that I did, I had an incredible knack for spells long forgotten by the rest of the population. Therefore, I thought I would put them to good use. For the past three years, I've been travelling throughout the world fighting the Dark Arts. That is the job I feel I am most suited for.  
  
"Anyhow, I figure that it is time that I teach others what I know. And that is what I am here for."  
  
Alice reached for the water again, and a long silence prevailed. Suddenly, Frank asked, "Why don't you teach Divination?"  
  
Alice smiled. "Good question. Quite truthfully, I never was any good at seeing anything in crystal balls. I had no need for it. Tea leaves, tarot cards . . . all rubbish." Alice was examining Harry's face intently as she said all this.  
  
Harry felt a slight wave of awe. So all that in the train compartment . . .she just knew that? How? His thoughts were whirling about him in circles. He wasn't really getting anywhere.  
  
"Why not History of Spells and Potions?" Snape interjected.  
  
"Because then I wouldn't be allowed to teach the spells, only their histories." Alice smiled. "I see the outcome already . . . if you don't mind me announcing all the results to save time, I will . . ."  
  
Dumbledore stood. "Precisely as I was hoping you would do, my dear. Save us all a bit of time. I know you will tell us wisely. We already had an idea of what jobs we wanted filled by each person . . ."  
  
"Yes," she said dreamily.  
  
"Well, I don't think it will surprise you to learn that Remus Lupin receives the job of Defense Against the Dark Arts."  
  
Everyone stared at her. "What about you?" Harry finally managed to gasp.  
  
She smiled. "I was coming to that . . . I am pleased to announce that for the first time in the history of this school, a teaching team will exist. I will be Lupin's partner, and we will split classes evenly. The reason the school is expanding at all is the sudden increase in the wizarding populace. We need to split classes. I will take the first, second, third, and fourth years, while he will take the fifth, sixth, and seventh years. Now, to continue . . . I'm sure that none of you will be surprised to also learn that Harry Potter is to be teacher of History of Spells and Potions. This is a way to relieve the tension on the teacher of History of Magic; it is believed that that topic is too broad. History of Magic will now cover the people and events that occur. Magic in Medicine will go to Frank Reede. Lastly, Safety in Magic goes to Emily Rightsee. We'd like to thank all of you for coming. Goodnight; your rooms are located in the room next, and the train leaves tomorrow at the same time as yesterday's. Those who have been selected ought to stay until term begins."  
  
Everyone was staring at her. Frank was smiling a tight-lipped smile in the very back of the room, and Harry and Lupin were grinning. The people began to file from the room.  
  
"Let's stay up a while, Harry, and catch up on things. How've you been?" Lupin said.  
  
"Quite well, thanks," Harry replied. "Things have been crazy. I wasn't sure I could find a job . . ."  
  
Alice sat down as well. "I believe I have some catching up to do as well," she said, leaning across the table. "Ready to pull an all-nighter?"  
  
"No wonder you always look so tired," Harry teased as they settled in for a long chat.  
  
  
  
The torches that lit the room were burning slightly lower now that they had previously. Lupin and Harry were laughing rather drunkenly; Alice had conjured up some wine for the two of them. "Don't you want a drink?" Harry had asked her after his second glass (the bottle kept refilling itself).  
  
"I don't drink," came Alice's reply. She had some water instead.  
  
"So, anyway, I ate a bit more of the chocolate and I said," Lupin laughed, "I said, 'I'm not scared of the two of you! Never!'"  
  
Harry was also laughing wildly. Alice sighed. She made two cups of an odd, purple, smoking potion appear from the air. She handed one to each. "Drink this, it will help you to regain what little composure you had."  
  
Harry and Lupin took the cups and drank the contents. They slowly stopped laughing. "What was that?" Lupin asked, wrinkling his nose. "It tasted absolutely vile."  
  
"But it worked, didn't it?" Alice replied, raising her brow. "Besides, the potion I'm giving you tomorrow will taste much worse."  
  
"Oh well. As long as I don't have to go through any transformations anymore! How can I ever thank you?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous: what are friends for?" Alice responded absent- mindedly. She seemed to brighten a bit. "My birthday is coming up," she announced.  
  
"What day?" Harry asked.  
  
"Tomorrow," she said, smiling.  
  
"Well, I wish you had told me sooner," Harry replied. "Now I'm going to have to go to Hogsmeade and find you something."  
  
"Don't bother," she replied. "I hate birthdays. But I love going for walks. Especially by rivers, or in woods."  
  
"Too bad there aren't any here," Harry said.  
  
"Aren't any? What about the Forbidden Forest?"  
  
Harry looked at her as though she were crazy. "The Forbidden Forest? Why the hell would you go on a pleasure walk there?"  
  
"It's lovely," Alice replied dreamily, her chin resting in her hands.  
  
Lupin and Harry exchanged glances. "Yeah, right, well . . . we'll see you tomorrow, we'd better go. See you around!"  
  
"Yes, tomorrow," Alice said. She stood and stretched, covering her mouth as she yawned.  
  
"Goodnight," Lupin said as he filed out of the door.  
  
"Goodnight," she said softly as she closed the door behind her. She headed off to the female dorm, weary and quite contented.  
  
  
  
"So," Harry said, his mouth full of fried egg, "You've been fighting evil? Where? I know I've heard your name all over, but still, I don't recall exactly where or how."  
  
Alice sighed. She was picking at the small platter of berries in front of her. She hardly ate. "I don't know, I've been practically everywhere. The worst, I think, was the wizard genocide in Canada. Somehow the Muggles became aware of their existence, and teamed up with the Dark Side. Some sort of compromise: 'We'll help you exterminate good wizards if you don't kill us.' I was placed in a concentration camp for a while, but they were so stupid. They thought they could lock wizards up for good. They almost succeeded, but I didn't need my wand to make food appear. They couldn't starve us, as they had hoped." Alice's face grew somber. "Other camps, however, were not so lucky."  
  
"What do you mean?" Lupin asked.  
  
"Well, I mean, there aren't many witches and wizards who can perform a variety of spells without their wands. The wands were all snapped before entering any of the camps. A lot of them starved. They couldn't produce food, pop locks, or tie up the guards."  
  
"So your camp escaped?"  
  
"Yeah, and the Muggles were rather—sorry they had ever attempted the whole thing. After our camp escaped, we helped others. And then, the Dark Side got angry. A whole bunch of Muggles began dying unexpectedly, and the cause of death was unknown."  
  
"The Dark wizards?" Lupin asked.  
  
"Yes." Alice smiled in an odd way. "I haven't really recovered yet. The Dark wizards managed to restrict some of my abilities. They must have set enchantments to stop the few wizards like myself from creating too much comfort. For a few months, about all I could produce was water. We all got a bit wasted looking."  
  
Harry was examining her. "So, all those awful dreams—are those from the genocide?"  
  
"In part," Alice replied. "Were you not listening last night?"  
  
"I was, but it was all somewhat beyond me," Harry admitted. "I mean, your life sounds so very bizarre . . ."  
  
"And that's not the whole of it," Alice responded, popping a bright red strawberry into her mouth.  
  
Lupin looked at his watch. "So, when will you perform the spell?"  
  
"In an hour or so," Alice answered truthfully. "We can't wait too long; the full moon is coming, and that would be a bad thing, if you turned into a werewolf before the spell was performed . . . let me get a my wand and bag, and then I'll be right back to perform it."  
  
Alice stood and walked resolutely out of the large dining hall. Harry looked at Lupin. "So, is this one of the things that she knows that everyone else has forgotten?"  
  
"Yeah, I suppose it is," Lupin replied. "She's spent years mulling it over. I guess she finally decided that it was all right to perform the spell, that it wouldn't change the future for the worst and so forth. She told me when she left Hogwarts that she would have a decision by the time that she saw me next. Well, she held true to her word, didn't she?"  
  
Harry was quiet until Alice returned, her beautiful wand in her right hand, her dirty sack in the left. "Ready?" she asked.  
  
"Never more so," Lupin replied. "What do I do?"  
  
"Remain quiet and clear your mind. Leave the rest up to me."  
  
Alice began pulling odd things out of her bag: some bright blue dried leaves, a small vial of pinkish water, a funny looking charm that she placed around Lupin's neck. She picked up the leaves and began chanting inaudibly, crushing them in her hand and dropping them on Lupin's head, then in a circle around him. She took the pinkish water and blew into it, turning it into a fluorescent yellow powder. This she blew all over Lupin. He looked like he was covered in pollen. She continued to chant as she picked up her wand. She pointed it straight at him and suddenly shouted, "Legrunde finilis chomrus hadin preferus! Finilis hissa chomrus! Mokenis homber e homber nont e worolv!"  
  
Harry realized that Alice was speaking the ancient wizarding tongue, which was only found in very old textbooks in the restricted section of the library. It was often dangerous to know the language, because many dark spells were written in it. But obviously, good spells were also written in the language, because Alice was using this spell to cure an evil.  
  
Suddenly, a large flash of brilliant orange light exploded from the wand. It hit Lupin full force, knocking him to his feet. A large cloud of yellow dust rose into the air, and the leaves flew about the room.  
  
Alice leaned against the table, suddenly exhausted. Seeing that others were already attending to Lupin, Harry rushed to Alice. "Are you all right?" he asked her.  
  
"Fine, fine," she replied. "It is a very taxing spell, but I'll be fine. Just a moment . . ."  
  
Harry looked at Lupin. A crowd of people who had been watching Alice and Lupin the whole time had rushed over and were now helping him to his feet. "I'm fine," Lupin kept saying. "Fine—yes, I'm sure. I'm all right. Please, leave me alone!"  
  
The people went back to their tables. Snape remained where he was. "Took a spill, Remus? That's too bad."  
  
Alice was sitting, her eyes closed and her head in her hands. She took a deep breath and stood. "You know, that spell can work two ways, Severus. I'd be careful."  
  
Snape smiled in an oily fashion. "Is that a threat, Miss Oak?"  
  
"Only if you took it that way, Severus." Alice was smiling sweetly, although her eyes showed exasperation and anger. "Now if you don't mind, I believe that the three of us would like some time alone together."  
  
"That's quite all right," Snape replied. "Just be careful. Remember that Miss Granger spent a lot of time alone with boys. I don't believe she's made it very far."  
  
"And I hear that you spent very little time with anyone. Look how far it's gotten you," she replied icily. "Good day, Severus."  
  
"You too, Miss Oak." Snape turned, a wicked smile on his lips. He left the room.  
  
Alice sank back into a chair. "I'm utterly exhausted," she exclaimed.  
  
"It looked complicated," Harry confided. "Where did the spell originate?"  
  
"Well, I believe it was Dutch, originally. A man named Ioma Bidmin Peroipritandtabaygode." She spat the name out quickly, and Harry looked at her funny.  
  
"Quite a mouthful."  
  
"Quite. Anyhow, he created many spells, which he worked throughout his short lifetime. Unfortunately, he died at a very young age in an inexplicable fire. All of his accounts were destroyed."  
  
"That's too bad," Lupin replied sympathetically.  
  
"Very," Alice said shortly. "Anyhow, I know them all, and not all work, but most are quite successful. That is one of them, Lupin."  
  
"Yes, well, I am forever in the debt of Ioma—and you."  
  
Alice smiled. "What are friends for, Remus?" She stood. "Well, I think that you and I ought to begin planning lessons. I would recommend that you do the same, Harry. It's not that long, you know, before the students arrive. Best to be prepared."  
  
Harry, too, stood. "Yes, I suppose you are right. I should begin to prepare things. Dear me, where to start?"  
  
"You know, deep down," Alice replied with a smile. She turned to Lupin. "Ready?"  
  
"Yes," he said, and they walked toward the door together.  
  
"Wait!" Harry cried. Alice turned around and waited for Harry to scramble over to join them. "Lupin, can you go ahead? I want to ask Alice one little thing."  
  
Lupin hesitated. "All right," he said after a moment. "I'll see you in my office," he directed towards Alice.  
  
"Yes," she agreed. She walked down the hall with Harry in a different direction. "My room," she said quietly. "It's the best place to talk."  
  
"Okay," Harry said uncertainly.  
  
She led him to a large portrait of a woman in Victorian-era attire, and said quite simply, "Operanda." The portrait melted away into the walls around her and a small gap appeared in the wall.  
  
At first, Harry thought that the room was pitch black, without windows. But then he saw that the walls were black. The large four-poster on the side wall was made of ebony and gold, with silk draping embroidered in gold threads. The curtains were of similar pattern. The floor was also made of ebony, with black rugs accented with gold designs and fringe. The set of drawers, mirror, desk, and nightstand were of the same design.  
  
"Sit," she said, indicating a black armchair in the corner. He sat in it, and she sat on the end of her bed. "So, you want to know why I lied about the crystal ball?"  
  
Harry nodded. "And why you wear one around your neck."  
  
"The necklace is no crystal ball," she said shortly. Her voice was crisp but not unkind. "As for the crystal ball—I was merely protecting myself."  
  
"All right."  
  
"That was all?"  
  
"No." Harry stood. He noticed that the nightstand had a vase full of beautiful flowers: tulips, chrysanthemums, roses, and Queen Anne's Lace.  
  
"You were hidden at Hogwarts. You also lied about that."  
  
He also noticed a little note. He walked over without thinking and read the note.  
  
Happy Birthday Alice! I hope it's great. X  
  
"Not really. I'm not the same person I was those many years ago. So in a way, it was not me hidden in the school."  
  
Harry changed the subject. "'X?'" he asked. "Who's that?"  
  
Alice had turned a brilliant shade of red. "Someone I knew a long time ago," she said softly.  
  
Harry grinned. "A . . . secret admirer?"  
  
She also smiled. "Yes. To some extent."  
  
"And who, may I ask, is this secret person?"  
  
"I don't want to say."  
  
"And why not?"  
  
"You know him." She looked away, and noticed that a picture of a young man and her had gone crooked. She turned to straighten it.  
  
"Who?" Harry asked gently.  
  
She sighed. "I didn't really want to tell you . . ."  
  
"Come on," Harry said soothingly. "You can tell me."  
  
"I know I can tell you, I'm just not sure I want to. There's a difference."  
  
"Oh, come on," Harry insisted. "I won't tell anyone."  
  
Alice couldn't help it. She broke into a grin. "Okay, you're going to think it's silly . . ."  
  
"I won't," Harry assured her. Who the hell is it? Harry thought to himself.  
  
Alice sighed and absently picked up one of the roses, holding it close to her nose. She carefully placed it back into the vase.  
  
"Seamus Finnigan," she practically whispered.  
  
Harry was quiet a moment, and then said, rather skeptically, "Seamus? As in, the same year that I was in?"  
  
"Well, do you know any other Seamus Finnigan?" she asked rather sharply.  
  
Harry looked rather shocked and hurt. What had gotten into her?  
  
Alice's expression softened slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings . . . but, I don't know, it's just so hard . . . you see, we didn't want to stop seeing each other, but the teachers . . ."  
  
Confused, Harry just continued to stare rather rudely at her.  
  
She sighed again. "Let me start from the beginning. As you know, I was in the same year as yourself. But, I was kept a secret from all of you. But one day, I was walking down the hall during the middle of the night, and Seamus . . . well, he wasn't supposed to be out, but I don't know . . . he just was. So, he ran into me, knocking me clear off my feet, and he helped me back up. For him, it was love at first sight . . ."  
  
Harry's eyes were still transfixed upon her.  
  
"It was during the third year," she explained. "Anyhow, we saw each other for a while, and then, well . . . the staff decided it wasn't a good idea. My dreams began getting worse. So they called the relationship off. I was forbidden to see him again. Apparently, he learned that I was here . . ."  
  
Harry finally diverted his gaze. "So he still loves you."  
  
"I suppose so. I'm not sure if it was ever what you could call love . . . more like lust. But yes, he still wants me."  
  
It was Harry's turn to pluck one of the flowers from the vase. He examined the yellow tulip with scrutinizing eyes. "And you still love him, I suppose?"  
  
Harry didn't see it, but Alice smiled slightly. She said, very gently, "No, Harry. I do not. It ended many years ago. I think that through my travels, I have learned that it is best that I not attach myself to anyone for any period of time. It will just cause pain."  
  
"Pain?" Harry asked. He lifted his eyes from the flower.  
  
"Yes, pain, Harry. I know pain even more than you do. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore. Because what I did to Seamus . . . it was just cruel."  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
Alice swallowed and closed her eyes. She spoke again; her voice seemed to come from deep within her. "I don't wish to speak anymore at this moment. Good day, Harry."  
  
Harry was still confused. He had come here for clarification, for comfort: he left in a state far worse than that in which he had come.  
  
"See you later," he said quietly. He stood, walked slowly over to the door, and hesitated in its frame for a moment. He saw a single tear roll softly down her cheek. He turned and walked from her room.  
  
He found himself in the deserted hallway and sighed. "So much work to do," he complained, "but I must start sometime." With that, he walked down the hallway and headed toward his office. He couldn't have known that someone else had already been there. 


	5. Beginning Term

1 Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball  
  
by Hannah  
  
2  
  
3 Chapter Five ~ Beginning Term  
  
It was now only two days before the students would arrive at Hogwarts. All was a-bustle in the castle: teachers planning lessons, setting up classrooms, cleaning dormitories, airing mattresses, and all the little things that just make it all the better.  
  
Harry, too, was caught up in the whole ordeal. His office was shabby and worn, because he couldn't afford a new desk, chair, or anything else, for that matter, to furnish it with.  
  
The carpet was an ugly gray, worn in most places and stained from long years of wear, the chair, desk, and cabinet were fashioned of an ugly walnut wood that was so scratched that the polish didn't even exist anymore, the walls were an ugly, smudged green, the one small window was streaked with grease, and the single torch sconce on the wall was of smoldered iron, twisted and deformed from long use. Harry couldn't believe how sloppy it had become in the past few days, either. Hardly any time had past since he had placed his few belongings within it and already it was a trash heap.  
  
Of course, Alice had offered to help. "I can improve its appearance," she said. "It won't cost you a penny, either."  
  
But Harry had some pride, or so he so rashly thought it, and refused her offer. "I can manage," he said.  
  
Alice nodded, smiled, and gave him a look that said all too well 'you'll-regret-that-decision.' And she left.  
  
And here Harry was with his trashy little office that shamed him.  
  
He had been in her office several times to discuss the current situation of their lessons and other small matters. The first time, he had been flabbergasted. It looked incredibly like her bedroom. It had ebony floorboards, black walls with gold trim, black curtains and rugs with gold embroidery and tassels, and two beautiful chairs, a cabinet, a bookshelf, and a matching desk, all ebony with golden inlay. The bookshelf covered one wall, and a large window facing out on the Forbidden Forest nearly covered another. The ceiling had an elaborate, raised gold pattern in the middle. Four torch sconces, fashioned of etched gold, lit the room with a warm glow.  
  
Harry was just walking from his office when someone called, "Harry, wait for me!"  
  
He turned to see Frank walking in a long stride toward him.  
  
Harry had come to like Frank quite well. At first, he had seemed somber and rather cold. Now, he was very open and friendly. He had come to be accepted as part of the group formed by Harry, Alice, and Lupin.  
  
Frank was smiling as he reached Harry, who had stopped for him. They began to walk slowly down the hall.  
  
"Where are you headed?" Frank asked him.  
  
"The Great Hall. For lunch," Harry replied. He was very hungry.  
  
"Great, me too. Have you seen Alice?"  
  
"No, I'm afraid I haven't. She's been keeping to herself an awful lot lately."  
  
"Yes, as I've noticed . . ." Frank seemed preoccupied. He appeared to be looking for something.  
  
"What are you looking for?" Harry asked. Frank stood still and said, "I thought her room was somewhere around here."  
  
Harry nodded grimly. "Yeah, it's that funny portrait of the woman in the hoop skirt. The password is 'operanda.' I'll come with you, see how she is."  
  
"All right. I've just been somewhat worried about her, you know? She's been so reclusive lately . . ."  
  
Frank walked over to the portrait, Harry just a step behind him.  
  
The lady turned up her nose in disgust. "Who are you? Calling on Ms. Oak at this time of the afternoon? I believe she's taking a nap, anyhow. Besides, you don't know the password."  
  
Harry stared her in the eyes, saying "Operanda." The painting reluctantly began to swirl into a black hole that they both stepped into.  
  
Alice was sitting at the desk in a dressing gown, writing something. She glanced up, startled, as Harry and Frank came into the room.  
  
She didn't look too good. Her hair was disheveled, as though she hadn't brushed it yet that day. Her eyes were swollen through crying, and her bed wasn't yet made. There was a small stack of papers on the desk, written in perfect handwriting.  
  
She stood up and took a moment to compose herself. "Yes?" she asked.  
  
Harry looked slightly uncomfortable and taken aback. "Well, we were just wondering if—you would join us for lunch."  
  
"Oh." She looked down into her hands, which still held a large peacock plume quill. She placed it on the desk, put a stopper in the small bottle of Indian ink, and said, "Just one moment."  
  
She muttered something and suddenly was dressed in her normal attire, her hair tidied and her eyes normal. "Ready," she said.  
  
Frank was looking at her quizzically, not realizing that he was staring. Harry was also abashed, but he didn't show it.  
  
"All right," he said. "Let's go. Frank, hello . . ."  
  
"Oh, yes," Frank said, coming back to life. "Wow, that was weird. I just . . . forgot myself there, for a moment."  
  
Harry was now slightly worried. Frank's face did have a blank expression, as though he had been completely mind-washed for a moment. As though he had forgotten himself. He brushed it aside.  
  
"Weird," he muttered under his breath as they headed through the portrait hole, their robes swishing against their ankles.  
  
They arrived in the Great Hall and sat down at a table that was empty except for Lupin.  
  
"Finally," Lupin said. "I've been waiting for nearly a quarter of an hour now."  
  
"Sorry," Harry apologized. "We were fetching Alice."  
  
Alice sat down, one of the gold plates in front of her. The platters all filled with the food that they wanted: Harry found his plate heaped with chicken soup and dumplings. Lupin's plate had a large mushroom pastie and a side of cooked carrots. Frank's plate had a large slab of steak and a generous helping of mashed potatoes. Alice's had a plain roll and a few slices of apple.  
  
Lupin looked at her plate with a questioning look on his face. "Is that all you want to eat?" he asked her.  
  
"Yes," she said quietly, placing the slices of apple on the roll.  
  
"Come on," Lupin said. "Eat something else. You can have a bite of my mushroom pastie. Or I'm sure that Harry would offer you a dumpling. Perhaps you'd like some of Frank's steak?"  
  
Alice smiled, and said insistently, "Thank you, but I'm fine." She bowed her head in prayer, and a moment later took a small bite of her 'lunch.'  
  
Lupin wouldn't let it alone. He stood up and said, "You starve yourself! For the sake of the Great Dragons, eat something!"  
  
"Great Dragons—silly term . . . I am eating." Alice's voice had an edge of steel in it. She took another bite from the roll.  
  
"You're eating hardly anything! A handful of berries one meal; a small dollop of mashed potatoes the next. What is your problem?"  
  
She stood, her purple eyes flashing. The gold within them was like sharp pins that stabbed him. He took an involuntary step back.  
  
"Listen, Remus. I eat what I wish. If you had been through what I've seen, perhaps you would think differently. Maybe someday you will understand my point. Meanwhile, let me be."  
  
Harry glanced uncomfortably at Frank. Frank's green eyes seemed to agree with Harry. He stood up hesitantly and said with mock cheerfulness, "Come on, the both of you! Calm down, I'm sure this is all just some misunderstanding. Come on, eat what you wish and leave it at that."  
  
Alice looked at Harry, and the pain in her eyes was so intense that Harry's own green eyes filled with tears. He turned away so that no one else saw them.  
  
Frank spoke, his voice like soothing music. "Come now, Alice. I'm sure Lupin meant no harm. Eat up. That's a girl."  
  
The three of them sat back down and ate. Alice picked at the roll. She only ate half of it. No one said anything throughout the whole meal.  
  
Alice stood up before anyone else. Her eyes had a mad blaze in them Harry hadn't seen before. Her gown swished about her heels. "I'll leave now. I'll be out of my room in a few hours. Until then?"  
  
Harry looked up from his meal. "I'll see you later, Alice," he said quietly. "Let's all get together. My room, five o'clock?"  
  
Alice hesitated. Her eyes seemed to take him in, beyond his physical appearance: deep into the depths of his soul. She blinked once or twice and said, "Actually, that doesn't work so well. But Harry, I must talk to you. Will you meet me in my room at six?"  
  
Now Harry hesitated. "Sure. I'll be there. Six."  
  
"Fine then."  
  
With that, she left, and silence reigned once more.  
  
  
  
Harry was waiting outside of Alice's door. It was still two minutes until six o'clock, and he didn't want to be early. He was leaning against the wall, whistling tunelessly, when a young woman walked down the corridor.  
  
Harry had never seen her before. She had beautiful black hair, dark skin, and dark green eyes that flashed in the light. Her robes were burgundy, and they were shorter than the classic robes that Alice wore.  
  
She saw Harry and smiled. "Hello, Mr. Potter," she said. "I'm Emily Rightsee, and I'm one of the new teachers here. I've seen you several times, but haven't had a chance to introduce myself."  
  
Harry shook her hand. "Hello, Ms. Rightsee. Are you enjoying yourself so far?"  
  
She laughed, and then sighed deeply. "It's been hectic, these past few days . . . but I must say, I am truly enjoying myself."  
  
"Me too," Harry replied honestly. He looked down at his wristwatch. He was now two minutes late. "Damn," he whispered under his breath, glancing back up at Emily. "I'm sorry, I have to go. I'm late."  
  
"All right," she said, smiling again. "I'll see you around. Good luck!"  
  
"Bye!" Harry called over his shoulder. "Operanda," he muttered, and the wall opened up.  
  
Alice was standing by her bed, a smile lingering on her face. "So, you've met Emily, have you?"  
  
Harry had learned not to be shocked anymore by Alice's superiority. "Yes, I have. She seemed nice enough."  
  
Alice looked smug, but she didn't say anything. She looked weary, like she couldn't stand much longer.  
  
Harry swallowed and said, "Sit down, you look utterly exhausted. Let me get some water."  
  
"Don't bother," she said, gesturing to a pitcher sitting on the nightstand. She let herself fall onto the bed, raising her head to look at Harry.  
  
"Sit, sit," she commanded, waving her hand in the direction of a comfortable looking chair by the bed. Harry made his way towards it and sat. The pitcher poured some water into a glass, which floated over to him and came to rest gently in his hands. He took a long draught of it and set it down on the floor by him.  
  
"Coaster," she said, and a small golden coaster appeared beneath the glass. "I don't want the wood to stain," she explained to him. "So, what's on your mind?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry admitted.  
  
"I do." Alice shot Harry a wry smile.  
  
"Yes, well . . ." Harry looked uncomfortable. "We're all just a bit worried about you, that's all. I mean—"  
  
"Harry, trust me, I've been like this all my life. There's nothing that you can do to change it. I've always picked at my food. I've always enjoyed seclusion. And yes, I've always blown my top when anyone tried to change it. Just realize that that is who I am. I've come to realize who you are—can't you do the same for me?"  
  
Her eyes seemed to plead with him to understand her. Harry was indecisive for a moment, but then his heart melted. "Okay, okay," he said. "You've got me. I won't try to change the way you do things. But really, I think that you should make an effort to eat a little more. It's worrisome."  
  
She looked too tired to care. "Please, Harry, I have a terrible headache . . . don't preach on me, not tonight." She put her hand to her head and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.  
  
"Are you all right?" Harry asked her.  
  
"Fine, fine," she said. "This happens often. See why I can't be out and around all the time? It exhausts me. I perform so many spells in the day—even minor ones—that I lose more energy than I can gain. It takes more energy to perform an energy spell than I can benefit from it."  
  
Harry felt a wave of pity sweep over him. "Alice, I wish I were more like you." He didn't mean to say it; it just came out.  
  
She opened her eyes and looked at him, her gaze intense. "No, you don't. Deep down, you know you don't."  
  
Harry was quiet. She would know . . .  
  
"Harry, you don't realize what my life is. It is all one huge play, one major façade. You don't want to be like me. I would rather be one of God's lowest creatures than what I am."  
  
Harry didn't understand. He just looked at Alice, his eyes troubled. "Is that really the way you feel?"  
  
Alice let out an exasperated sigh. "I don't know, I don't know what I want anymore." She paused, and then her mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. "Actually, I do know . . . I have to know. But it's so confusing . . ."  
  
Harry didn't know what to say. He didn't have anything that he could say. "I'm sorry."  
  
She sat up slightly. "Sorry? For what?"  
  
"That your life is so hard on you."  
  
"No need to be sorry. It's the way it is: it's over, it's done, and there's nothing to be done about it. God only knows that I wish that there was something to be done, but of course, there's not, so . . . oh, I'm confusing myself, even!" She threw herself backward onto the bed once more.  
  
Harry sat there for a moment, not knowing what to do. He picked up his water and took a sip, setting it gently back down onto the delicate coaster.  
  
Alice spoke again, her voice small. "Please go, Harry. This has exhausted me. I need to rest. I'll see you for dinner."  
  
Harry stood. "Yes, I think I will go." He walked to the doorway and this time didn't look back. He walked out and the wall closed up behind him.  
  
He walked down the deserted hallway to his office. He had some thinking to do.  
  
  
  
Alice was meticulously groomed and primped. Her hair was a perfect cascade of gold down her back, and she had her customary robes on. Harry, too, was wearing black robes, though his were plain in appearance. He had slicked his hair back as best he could, and had tried his best to look wonderful. He wanted to make a good first impression on the students.  
  
Lupin, Frank, Emily, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Snape, and the other teachers were all sitting at the head table, talking and having cocktails. Alice and Frank were the only ones not drinking. The rest, including Hagrid, whom Harry hadn't seen before that night, were drinking wine and enjoying themselves wholeheartedly. Even so, Alice and Frank were having tremendous fun with the rest of them.  
  
"God, can you believe that they'll be here in only two hours?" McGonagall asked the others, her face slightly flushed.  
  
Emily laughed rather rowdily. "No! And then what happens, I ask. We spend the next year teaching them. Oh, what fun!"  
  
Harry was sitting to her left, and Alice was to the left of him. She had turned somewhat somber.  
  
"I suppose times won't be quite as good," she said, "but they will still be wonderful. Why else would we be here?"  
  
"True, true," Frank responded. "I see your point, but I see theirs', too."  
  
Dumbledore smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Alice, would you perform that funny spell that suddenly will make everyone quite normal? I think we've allowed the merry-making to go a little too far."  
  
Alice swept her hand gracefully and the room fell quiet. McGonagall blinked once or twice and coughed. "Well, that was interesting, I must say . . ."  
  
"Yes." Harry sat quietly by Alice, slightly stiff in his chair. His stomach hurt slightly, but other than that, he felt completely normal. He figured it must be one of the side effects of the spell. He looked around the room and saw that others were also clutching their stomachs.  
  
"Can't have you acting like that when the students arrive," Alice said cheerfully, standing. Well, I figure that we want to assign people to different tasks now, don't we? Who's going to handle the sorting ceremony? And the feast? And the introductions? The tours? The transportation to the castle?"  
  
"Dumbledore, too, stood. "Minerva, will you handle the sorting? Hagrid, I want you to be in charge of the first years and the boats to the castle, as usual. And then . . . of course, I will make the introductions and speeches, but . . . the feast . . . hmmm . . . Harry? Do you want to handle the preparation of the dining hall? With Alice's aide, perhaps?"  
  
"All right," Harry said, standing as well.  
  
"Good, good. We'd all better get ready, then. Anyone without an assignment, please go to all the dormitories and so forth and make sure they're completely ready for the students. I'll see you in an hour and a half right here."  
  
All the staff walked off to their posts. Harry and Alice stood alone in the Great Hall, ready to prepare the room for the feast.  
  
The stood in silence for a moment, and then Alice said, "If I remember correctly, the plates fill themselves for the banquet. We'll have to conjure tables, chairs, and decorations, as well as table settings. The enchantments will take it from there."  
  
"All right," Harry said, rolling up his sleeves and taking his wand from his belt. "Where do we start?"  
  
Alice smiled and removed her wand from a deep pocket in her robe. "I believe tables would be the best. Repeat after me: apperilus mensae!"  
  
"Apperilus mensae," Harry sputtered. Nothing happened.  
  
Alice looked slightly perplexed. She had conjured up a perfect table, ebony and gold, as was her trademark. "Okay, let's try that again. I don't think yours is quite big enough, Harry . . ."  
  
"Apperilus mensae," Harry said rather deliberately. Nothing.  
  
"Come now, I think you just need to be a bit more sure of your talents, Harry. You know you're great. Shout it to the beams, come on!"  
  
"All right . . . apperilus mensae!"  
  
A small puff of yellow smoke erupted from his wandtip, and it turned into small snakes that coiled around in the air, twisting and shaping themselves until a very worn and scratched table sat before him. It was only large enough for about four people, and it looked like it could hardly stand on its own.  
  
Harry glanced skeptically at Alice, but she didn't seem perturbed. She gave a like skip and clap of delight. "Oh, good! See, that's a start. Now, just a little bit of touch up . . ." Alice pointed her wand at it and it grew to match the length of her table, and it twisted and coiled to match it to the very grain of the wood.  
  
  
  
"Okay, let's make three more—two for students, one for staff." They created them, Harry's still rather wobbly, but this time a polished mahogany that could probably seat twelve. Alice smiled. "See? You're learning already. And you, the teacher. You know what they say: the teachers learn from the students. Not that I'm you're student or anything. Well, I guess the next step is chairs. How many do you think we need?"  
  
Harry groaned. "Too many to count. We'll never accomplish it in an hour and a half!"  
  
"Oh, don't be such a pessimist . . . that's my job. Now, come, you don't think we'd really have to conjure up individual chairs, do you? We didn't have to with the tables, either, but that was good practice for you. We'll conjure up the first few chairs individually, and then the rest we'll do en masse. What do you say?"  
  
"All right. What charm?"  
  
Alice smiled. "It's fairly similar . . . apperilus sillas!"  
  
A perfect chair appeared at the head of one table. It was ebony, of course, with a gold design etched into its legs and back. The top of the back had a golden dragon perched atop it. The seat was padded and covered in gold-thread fabric.  
  
"Your turn, Mr. Potter," Alice said cheerily. "Remember, nice and loud. You're the boss."  
  
Harry took a deep breath. "Apperilus sillas!"  
  
There was a loud popping noise, and there were no snakes this time. Now, a chair very close in fashion to that of Alice's was seated at the other end of the table.  
  
Laughing, Alice turned to him. "Wonderful, wonderful! How about producing a thousand more?"  
  
"How would I do that?" Harry couldn't help but glow with pride. He'd done it! He'd made a chair that matched hers!  
  
"Okay, here's what you do . . . do the usual charm, and then say 'mille' after that. Okay? You're ready?"  
  
"I'm ready," Harry said, poised with his wand in the air. "All right . . . apperilus sillas ma--!"  
  
Alice bent double and cupped her ears. Harry was about to ask her why she'd done so when the room was split with a deafening crack, like that of thunder. Harry felt his eardrums throb within his head.  
  
He looked up, coughing and choking. The room was filled with pinkish- purplish-gray smoke, and he couldn't see a thing, not even Alice, who was just a few feet from him. He could hear her coughing.  
  
"Alice!" he shouted. "What went wrong?"  
  
"You (cough, cough) didn't say 'mille,' you said 'magnum.' So instead of a thousand chairs, we (cough) have one really large one!"  
  
Harry looked back up, and the room was dark as pitch. "Lumos," he muttered, and saw that a chair leg as wide as one of the tables was long loomed before him. The gold etching, which looked so delicate on the smaller versions, was now as wide as he was tall. The chair seemed to have no end. It blocked out the light from the ceiling above, which was enchanted to look like the night sky.  
  
"Damn," he muttered, and then, "Nox."  
  
The light went out, and then Alice muttered something that Harry didn't catch, and a small ball of purple flame was suspended in the air between them.  
  
"I was hoping that I wouldn't have to teach you the vanishing spell, but I guess that I will have to after all." She took a step closer to Harry, and her long robes rustled against his ankles. "All right, to make an object disappear, you simply say 'disapperilus.' Now let me warn you, it is a lot harder to make something disappear than to appear. But I want you to try it."  
  
"After what I did?" Harry sounded skeptical. He looked into Alice's face. The flame created shadows that danced across it, but her eyes seemed to burn with a fire that caused them to glow continuously.  
  
"Yes," she said with determination. "You'll never learn otherwise. Now give it a try."  
  
Harry braced himself. "Disapperilus!" Nothing happened.  
  
"Disapperilus!" he shouted. Nothing.  
  
Harry took a deep breath that caused his lungs to quiver. He pointed his wand toward the heavens. "DISAPPERILUS!"  
  
A large black object shot from the end of his wand. It seemed to fly all about him at once: it ricocheted off the chair's leg, flew up to the ceiling, and all about the room in a fraction of a second.  
  
"Commandae!" Alice shouted, and the shadow seemed to fall to the ground, smothering and smoking. The chair had begun to shrink, and it had diminished down to nothing.  
  
Harry blinked several times. "Wow," he finally managed to sputter.  
  
"Yes, isn't it incredible? Now how about trying the chair-charm again?" Alice said, completely nonplussed.  
  
Harry took a deep breath and shook his head. That's just how Alice was.  
  
  
  
The sorting ceremony was done and over, glory be. Harry was completely and utterly exhausted. He could hardly keep on his feet.  
  
Alice had managed to decorate the Great Hall quite nicely, of course, in her trademark style. Harry had learned quite a bit about magic. Then the others joined them. Harry had been surprised to learn that McGonagall no longer wanted to be the head of the Gryffindor house. So, they drew names: two. Each house now had two head masters/mistresses, because the houses had grown so much that the job was too much for one person.  
  
Anyhow, Harry was pleasantly surprised to learn that he had been chosen, as well as Alice.  
  
Now usually, to be the head of a House, one had to be in that house as a student. Therefore, teachers who hadn't attended Hogwarts at all in their youth were rather disappointed to learn that they couldn't even try. But Dumbledore made an exception for Alice: she was so brave and smart and responsible. She deserved the post more than anyone else did.  
  
Anyhow, shortly after this, the students came into the Hall. All the first years were with McGonagall in another room, preparing for the sorting.  
  
Anyhow, Harry decided that it felt good to just sit down at the head table and wait.  
  
Shortly, the first years filed in, the sorting hat was placed on each student's head, and in turn shouted out one of the four houses: Gryffindor (for the brave), Ravenclaw (for the wise), Slytherin (for the cunning), or Hufflepuff (for the kind).  
  
This was all followed by a gala feast with all imaginable foods: mashed potatoes, gravy, leg of lamb, roasted pork, steamed green beans, yams, cranberry sauce, steaming rolls, chilled preserves, pasties of a dozen varieties, and innumerable other goods, followed by desert: chocolate pie, mousse, ice cream, peppermint frogs, German chocolate cake, and more. Harry could hardly walk to the Gryffindor common room afterwards; he was so full of delicious food.  
  
Harry and Alice led the students through the twisting corridors of the castle to the common room. The first years were somewhat frightened, it seemed, by the dark rooms and such.  
  
The Gryffindor common room was accessible only by a portrait of a very obese woman in an overdone pink dress. Harry smiled at her. "Hello, pink lady."  
  
"Hello, Mr. Potter. I hear you're one of the new Heads of House. Password?"  
  
Alice said to the students, "Listen carefully, you need to know this."  
  
"Liberi."  
  
The portrait swung open to reveal the common room. It was a cozy place with a few large armchairs, a couch, and some smaller straight-backed chairs that surrounded tables. The small fireplace in the corner blazed with a welcome heat and friendly glow.  
  
"Here's your common room," Alice said. To the left, up the stairs, are the girls' dormitories. Boys, yours are to the right. Now, if you don't mind, we're going to leave now. If you need any of us, just run over to either the portrait of the woman in the hoopskirt down the hall or to the statue of the one-armed soldier near the staircase on your left. Knock on the walls and one of us will come out. Good night. Sleep well; classes tomorrow!"  
  
Alice and Harry left them with that.  
  
Harry had gone straight to his shabby room and crawled into bed, not worrying in the least about the fact that his clothes were still on and he hadn't brushed his teeth. He'd fallen straight to sleep in the small, cramped quarters.  
  
Alice, meanwhile, was writing. 


	6. The Duel

Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball  
  
by Hannah  
  
Chapter Six ~ The Duel  
  
Harry awoke to find himself tangled in his gray sheets, damp with a cold sweat. He took a deep breath or two. His dream . . . it had been a dream, hadn't it?  
  
There had been a small kitten in it, black, with a white face and four white paws. It had a small golden splotch on its head. It was at the foot of his bed, and was apparently crying. The dream-Harry thought this was ridiculous. Cats can't cry. But it looked so sad and lonely and harmless . . .  
  
Dream-Harry reached down to stroke the kitten. It turned its tear- stained face up to him, and mewed slightly at his touch. It nibbled gently at his finger. And suddenly, before dream-Harry could gather his bearings, it grew to become a huge panther that snarled at him. The tears continued to run down its cheeks as it circled him, almost like it was unwilling to kill him. Such large, sad eyes. Dream-Harry jumped off of the bed, and the cat followed his lead. Dream-Harry pulled out his wand and shouted something at the cat. It fell to the ground with a shocked look of remorse on its face. It seemed to blur around the edges, and then became—  
  
Harry told himself to calm down. "Just a dream," he told himself. "Only a dream . . ." Even so, Harry wasn't very convinced. He felt almost certain that the cat had turned into a woman. She looked familiar, though he couldn't place a finger on who she was.  
  
"What do dreams mean?" Harry asked himself, trying to brush away his disease.  
  
Harry took one last deep breath of stale air and crawled out of bed. He was so utterly exhausted, but it was his first day teaching, and he needed to be ready for his class when they arrived. He threw on his robes and quickly brushed back his hair. As a last-minute touch, Harry hurriedly placed his glasses on his nose. With that, he rushed out of the room and down the hallway.  
  
Making his way to the Great Hall, Harry stopped for a moment outside to catch his breath. He glanced around one of the heavy wooden doors into the room, and found it filled with children. "Argh . . ." Harry muttered, slowly making his way into the room. He tried to avoid being seen by all the students.  
  
Alice stood up and waved to him. "Over here," she said in a very cheerful tone. She was wearing her usual robes; black with gold trim. Looking particularly cheerful, as well.  
  
Harry sighed. He had wanted to enter unnoticed, but apparently it wasn't to happen. He made his way over to the head of the table and took a seat by Alice, who had by that time sat down again. She smiled.  
  
"So, how does it feel to know you're a teacher now?"  
  
Harry groaned. "I guess it's all right," he said. "I didn't get much sleep last night."  
  
"Bad dreams?" she asked.  
  
"Mm-hmm," Harry said dejectedly, picking up a spoon and dipping it half-heartedly into his bowl of oatmeal.  
  
"That's too bad, but don't let it bother you too much."  
  
"Yeah, that's what I told myself," he said. "Oh well."  
  
"Yes," she said shortly. "Well, I wouldn't dwell on it."  
  
"Yeah. So, how are you?"  
  
"Fine. Wonderful!"  
  
"That's nice. I'm starving."  
  
"I'm not very hungry."  
  
Harry choked back an 'of course not' as he continued to eat his cereal.  
  
Alice nibbled on a slice of peach. "At least you don't preach on me, like Lupin."  
  
"Let's talk about something else, shall we?"  
  
"All right. Are you excited about starting classes today?"  
  
Harry stared off into space: beyond the room. "Yeah, I suppose. I guess I don't really want all the students talking about 'the Great Harry Potter,' but I don't have much control over it. I've had to put up with that crap since I was at Hogwarts. I wish it would stop."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure you've gotten used to it."  
  
"Yes, I have, but still—"  
  
"Don't let it bother you too much," she said. Her voice had an air of 'I-know-what-I'm-talking-about' in it.  
  
"Okay. I won't."  
  
Alice smiled and popped the rest of the peach into her mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully. "Well, I guess it's just about time to start lessons. What's on your agenda today?"  
  
"Not much. The norm. Rules, a little intro game . . . I guess that's all."  
  
"Yeah, I want the students to get to know eachother. And me. It's one of those we're-stuck-together-for-seven-years-so-we-might-as-well-get- to-know-eachother-and-make-the-best-of-it things."  
  
"Mm-hmm," Harry responded. He set down his spoon and took a long gulp of milk.  
  
The Great Hall was crowded with students, and the ceiling was covered in gray clouds that looked heavy with rain.  
  
"Looks like we can expect some weather," Alice remarked wryly. "At least we'll be indoors."  
  
"I love the rain," Harry said.  
  
"Me too," Alice said hastily. "I just hate getting wet."  
  
"Yes, that is rather unpleasant."  
  
Alice smiled. "But I like curling up in front of a nice, roaring blaze with a cup of hot tea and a nice book."  
  
Harry laughed. "Yes, but you can do that in any weather."  
  
Alice wrinkled her nose. "Who wants to do that in the summer when it's sweltering hot and you could be out on the beach?"  
  
"Got me there . . ."  
  
"I know I do!" She leaned back in her seat, laughing. Her huge purple eyes closed as her shoulders shook a little bit.  
  
Harry smiled, watching her. She looked so happy!  
  
Alice opened her eyes and looked dreamily into the distance. "Well, I guess it's about time to start classes . . ."  
  
Harry scrunched up his face. "Yeah, I guess so . . ."  
  
Alice stood up. "Well, students, finish eating. I believe that all the first years have Potions with Snape to start. That should be so much fun!" Alice ended sarcastically. The first years looked rather frightened. All the more experienced students snickered into their napkins. So, Miss Oak held a grudge against Professor Snape.  
  
Harry stood up, still smiling. Stretching, he said, "Yes, Professor Snape always finds a way to make his classes extremely interesting. He makes a game out of docking points from Gryffindor."  
  
"Yes, I do rather enjoy that."  
  
Harry turned around to find Snape smiling coldly at him. His mocking eyes glared at Harry, making him squirm inwardly.  
  
"Hello, Severus." Alice was also smiling at Snape.  
  
Snape turned and nodded in her direction, acknowledging her presence.  
  
"I think my argument is not with you, dear, but with him." Snape's sardonic smile lured at Harry. He wanted nothing my than to punch him.  
  
Alice continued to smile sweetly, but her purple eyes flashed with a vengeance Harry had never before seen. Flashing Snape an evil glance, she said with a poisonous undertone, "I believe, Severus, that I started the façade. I think that this little—argument, did you say? —is between you and me."  
  
Snape continued to smile, his yellow teeth dully shining in the dim light. Greasy and in need of a good trim, his black hair swayed slightly as he bowed to her. "A duel, perhaps, tonight? I would be very honored to fight you." He looked into her eyes, and the anger in them was biting. His sallow face seemed to glow with a joy she had never seen.  
  
Alice curtseyed. "Yes. Midnight. The Forbidden Forest."  
  
Snape stood erect and nodded. "Yes, as you say."  
  
"My second is Harry. And who might yours be?"  
  
"I'll take . . ." Snape surveyed the Great Hall and realized that nobody present would fight for him. "I will take . . . the new one, Frank," he said as his eyes landed on Frank, briskly walking towards them.  
  
"All right, then. Better tell him now." Alice's amused eyes seemed to scorn him.  
  
"Erm . . . yes, I suppose so."  
  
Frank stood by Alice, his face gleaming with sweat. "What's going on?" he asked.  
  
Alice patted him on the back. "Don't you worry one bit, Frank. I've been asked by Snape to fight a duel."  
  
"Okay . . ." Frank didn't seem to understand the relevance of this all.  
  
"You're his second."  
  
The puzzlement in Frank's green eyes seemed to grow even more intense. "I'm—I'm—"  
  
"Yes, you're his second." Alice looked very joyful as she gently guided Frank into a chair.  
  
Frank's hair was very tidy, but he found himself running his hand impulsively through it. "I can't. I won't."  
  
Alice knelt down beside him. "Do it for me, will you?"  
  
Frank just looked at her, his pouty lips curled in confusion. "But . . . I won't be helping you . . . Alice!"  
  
She shrugged. "Come on. Midnight, at the Forbidden Forest. I promise, nothing bad will come of it."  
  
Looking lost, Frank said in an imploring voice, "Alice . . ."  
  
"No," she said resolutely, standing straight. She brushed at her black silk robes with her thin white hands and looked back at Snape, who had been grinning snidely the whole time. "All right. You can go now."  
  
"Yes, I think I will. Good-day, Alice." Snape turned then and left to sit down at the Slytherin table.  
  
It was then that Harry noticed that the hall was filled with a ringing silence. Everyone had been listening quite intently to the conversation held between Alice and Snape.  
  
And he felt guilty. He, too, had been a part of the cause of the whole fight. Getting off so lightly was not fair to Alice. But then again, he knew that she would be able to duel Snape a lot better than he would have been able to.  
  
Alice gave Frank a hug. "Thank you, Frank."  
  
He sighed. He looked ready to be sick. "For you, I suppose. But really: Snape!"  
  
"I know, I know." She turned toward Harry. "And thank you for being my second."  
  
"No prob," Harry responded.  
  
Alice turned to the silent students. "And who, may I ask, are you staring at?" she asked teasingly. "If you're done eating, head towards Snape's dungeon. Tell him I say hello!"  
  
A few of the bolder students rushed off, hurrying to be the first to relay her message.  
  
With the disturbance over and done with, the students were beginning to file out of the hall. A few of the teachers were talking excitedly to eachother in the corners of the room. Emily Rightsee walked over to Harry.  
  
"Hi, Harry," she said. She was flashing him the whitest smile he'd seen, other than Alice's.  
  
Harry felt some little jerk within him. He remembered something Alice had said: You'll find your bride at Hogwarts. Could this be she? Blinking rapidly, Harry came out of his trance.  
  
"Hello, Ms. Rightsee."  
  
"Oh please, call me Emily." She was glancing at him coyly.  
  
Without a second thought, Harry said, "Well, I'd be very happy to walk you to your room before our classes begin." He might as well help Fate along a bit.  
  
"Oh, you're too kind, Harry." Her soft green eyes looked into his, brimming over with emotions.  
  
Alice was smiling at the two of them from out of their range of vision. Slowly shaking her head, she muttered, "Harry, Harry: when will you learn? There's no helping Fate along . . . would it be Fate otherwise?"  
  
  
  
Harry cleared his throat. "Hello, students. Welcome to the class of History of Spells and Potions. You are the sixth year class, correct?  
  
The students were staring blankly at him, nodding their heads. Several were obviously pureblooded magicians, because they looked it. One had black eyes, another was so tall that she seemed to almost touch the ceiling when standing, and one boy was so thin that Harry was sure that if he were to place his hands around his waist, they would fit around it with room to spare.  
  
Harry swallowed and took a deep breath. "I am your professor, Harry Potter. I'm sure most of you know about me?"  
  
More nodding of heads.  
  
"Okay, well, let's hear from some of you. You probably know eachother, but I don't know you."  
  
Harry then realized why they were so quiet. They were from Slytherin. Slytherins and Gryffindors had been long-standing rivals at Hogwarts.  
  
"Hmmm . . ." Harry mused to himself. "How can I make them respond?"  
  
Harry couldn't help but think of Alice. Surely she'd know how to make these students participate.  
  
Suddenly, he heard her voice clearly in his head. "Crack some jokes about Snape. Talk about your boyhood with him. Talk about something they can relate to."  
  
Harry smiled. Of course she knew his dilemma. She knew everything. And she had helped him.  
  
"You know, Snape and I have never hit it well together . . ."  
  
  
  
Alice's room reflected all the grandeur one would expect from her. The whole room was accessorized in ebony and gold, and even in the dim surroundings, a warm glow seemed to radiate about the place.  
  
Alice smiled at the fearful sea of faces before her. "All right. I suppose that you are first year Gryffindors. I am one of the leaders of your house. We should have a great time together. I am Professor Oak, or Miss Oak. I prefer Miss Oak, if you don't mind."  
  
The students seemed to be relaxing.  
  
"Anyhow, I don't know any of you, and I really ought to, seeing as we'll be together for such a time. How about each of you stand up and recite for us your name, where you're from, and just a little bit about yourself. I'll start."  
  
The students all smiled back at their young teacher.  
  
"My name is Alice Oak, and I've been living all over the world, although I was born in Montgomery, Alabama. I like to fight the Dark Arts. I'm going to try to be a wonderful teacher for all of you. I love chocolate, fineries, and mint tea. I also love to cast spells. Now, how about you go next, Geraldine?"  
  
And so the class related their lives to their teacher. Of course, they didn't have to. The moment Alice looked at Edward she knew that he was from Surrey, that his grandparents had all been wizards, and that he loved to play Quidditch (he was a Keeper). Even so, everyone seemed more comfortable after the go-around.  
  
"Well, class is just about over. I'm not supposed to let you out early, but . . . I know what I used to like when I was your age." Alice gave them a bright smile. "You're dismissed. Tomorrow: wear something that you don't care about too much!"  
  
The students filed out of the room, and Alice sat down at her desk, head in her hands. Was she ever tired! Longing for some time alone, she stood to close her door and tottered slightly on her weary feet. She put her hand on the golden doorknob and was about to push the door shut when she heard a voice say, "Mind if we come in?"  
  
Alice sighed. "I suppose not. I really wanted to rest, but . . ."  
  
She broke off and opened the door completely to find Harry, Lupin, and Frank standing in front of her. Not capable of helping herself, she smiled and motioned for them to sit down at a desk.  
  
Harry sat in the front row, right in front of Alice's desk, and Frank and Lupin took seats on either side of him. Perching herself on the edge of her desk, Alice asked, "So, what's new?"  
  
Harry looked thoughtful. "Not much," he admitted. Frank and Lupin nodded in agreement.  
  
"Well then . . ."  
  
"We just came to see how you are," Frank said innocently.  
  
"And to ask you not to duel Snape," Lupin added pointedly.  
  
Alice stood. "I cannot. It is under my guard of honor that I accept him. Besides, what makes you think that he can win me? He has no chance when it comes to a War of the Wands. You ought to know that by now!"  
  
Harry looked at Frank. "Told you so."  
  
"What?" Alice asked in an exasperated voice. "That I wouldn't give in? And what, may I ask, is wrong with that?"  
  
"Nothing," Lupin said coolly. "Just that really, Alice, you've looked so tired and weak and sickly lately . . . we don't think it's a good idea."  
  
Alice sat back down on her desk. "I've always been weak and sickly. You would know, Lupin." Alice cast Lupin a meaningful look. Harry and Frank looked at each other. What did she mean? "Of course, it's a good idea," she said. "I couldn't refuse, you know. Then I'd look like a coward. I'll bet Snape is cowering behind his desk right now, wondering why he ever asked."  
  
But Snape was not. He had held the Gryffindor first years late and was lecturing them on the importance of keeping quiet during lessons.  
  
"I don't want to hear rude interjections," he said. His voice was dripping with sarcasm as he said, "Some teachers like for the students to put up arguments. Miss Oak likes nothing better. Even so, I am the teacher. You are supposed to listen to me and learn in turn!"  
  
The students were all cringing. They already disliked Snape. No wonder Miss Oak didn't like him.  
  
"Anyhow," he continued, pacing in front of his class, "I don't intent for such a rowdy lesson to ever happen again. To teach lessons, I punish." He paused for a moment to see if anyone would groan. No one did. "I am going to ask you to write a paper, entitled 'Why It Is Important to Not Interrupt the Teacher.' I expect it to be handed in two days from now. At least two scrolls of parchment."  
  
Now the class groaned.  
  
"Shall I make it three?" Snape asked with a cruel edge in his voice. Silence prevailed. "So I thought. You are dismissed."  
  
After the class had filed out, muttered amongst themselves over the cruelty of their teacher, Snape followed. He was headed toward the Great Hall for a cup of coffee when he bumped into someone. He dropped the book he was carrying (Teaching Magic for Dummies), and stooped down to retrieve it. The other person also knelt. He saw that it was one of the new teachers, a Miss Emily someone or other. She seemed like a nice enough woman. Smiling lightly, she said, "Dear me, I'm so clumsy. Please excuse me . . . oh dear, what is your name?"  
  
"Severus," Snape found himself muttering. His pallid, waxy face had turned somewhat pink.  
  
"I'm Emily Rightsee," she replied, offering him her hand. He took it and shook it rather half-heartedly.  
  
He looked at a pocket watch and feigned surprise. "Dear me, must be going . . ." He was gone.  
  
"Odd men around here," Emily said to herself, shaking her head and continuing down the corridor. She turned a corner and heard laughter coming from a closed, black door on her left. She paused in front of it for a moment, pushing her black hair behind her ear. Most of it fell right back into her face.  
  
"Oh Harry," a woman was saying. "Really, you are clueless, aren't you?"  
  
Then a man said, "Yes, listen to us Dark Arts professors. A snizzletope is added to a broth made of rats' tails and sulfur boiled in pig's lard to create a very strong poison."  
  
"Only a very few wizards are immune to it. And you are one of them. That is absolutely wonderful! It means that you cannot be poisoned in any way."  
  
Emily pursed her lips. She wished that she was in there, laughing. She was rather fond of that Harry Potter. He seemed like a kind, likeable character. Summoning all the courage she could possibly muster, Emily walked to the door and tapped on it.  
  
"Yes?" a man's voice questioned.  
  
Yet before Emily could respond, the woman called, "Yes, Emily, do come in."  
  
Puzzled, Emily pushed the door and walked inside. She was suddenly rather upset that she had invaded. Quiet seemed to spread across the room as she stood in the doorframe, not moving.  
  
Alice leapt agilely from the desk and smiled. "Come on, sit down. Take the seat by Frank. There's a good girl."  
  
Emily found herself being led to a comfortable looking desk, and then sitting down in it. Alice went back to the desk, pulled herself backward up onto it, and then began swinging her legs.  
  
"What's the matter, boys?" she asked teasingly. "Can't say anything with two stunning women sitting in the room? It's impolite, to just gawk."  
  
Harry smiled. "So, immune to poison, am I? And what good will that do me?"  
  
"Trying to extricate more information from me, Harry?" Alice asked with a maddening gleam in those purple eyes. "I'm afraid I can't say, Harry. Yet you'll know. Someday, you'll know."  
  
Emily sighed. "It's nice to sit down and have a friendly conversation with some people."  
  
Frank nodded. "Well, I don't know if you can classify us as people. I mean, one is an ex-werewolf, two have defeated Lord Voldemort, one of them can transform into any shape that she chooses—" Alice smiled devilishly, "—but I suppose we are somewhat normal."  
  
Emily tapped her fingers on the desk and didn't look at them. "Now I feel bad, like I don't know anything."  
  
"Ah, don't," Harry said, leaning across Frank's desk to pat Emily on the hand. "Alice must have chosen you for some reason."  
  
Glancing upwards, Alice said, "Lord help the one who doesn't believe Harry!"  
  
Everyone burst out laughing, even Emily.  
  
Meanwhile, Alice closed her eyes and seemed to concentrate very hard. Everyone stopped laughing, and Lupin said, "You okay?"  
  
Alice didn't reply. Suddenly, where she had been sitting, there sat a small, fuzzy, pink creature with two very large, pointed ears that seemed to spiral about its head. It flopped from the desk on six stubby legs and landed in front of Emily.  
  
Emily started giggling again. "Oh, she's really too good!"  
  
Harry smiled. "Okay Alice, you've had your fun. Let's go eat, finish our classes, and . . . do the duel."  
  
With a little pop, the small creature turned back into Alice, who was smiling mischievously. "All right, let's go eat."  
  
The group made their way down the hall and to the Great Hall, where the students were already assembled. They sat down at their separate tables: Harry and Alice at the Gryffindor table, and the others at the staff's table.  
  
Lunch was quiet. Alice was meditating on which spells she was to use to defeat Snape. She didn't want to mortally wound him or anything of the sort. She just wanted to give him a lesson he wouldn't forget.  
  
Snape, meanwhile, was finally beginning to have second thoughts. He realized now how hasty his decision had been. Being aware of the fact that Alice was practically omnipotent, Snape knew he stood no chance in a duel. So he too began to think over which spells he ought to use.  
  
Alice smiled. A humgobble apparition would be just the ticket, followed by a handful of swizzlegibbets and a Grumb spell.  
  
Harry looked over at her. "Cheese?" he asked, offering her a tray.  
  
"No, thank you," Alice responded, pushing the air with her hand. She bowed her head and her plate held a small cucumber sandwich (two pieces of bread, white, with small slices of cucumber stuck between them).  
  
Harry looked skeptically at the mouthful of sandwich that sat before her. "You sure?" His quizzical eyes burned into hers.  
  
"I'm sure," she replied, trying to keep her cool. She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulders and picked up the sandwich, nibbling around the edges. "I don't want to go back to classes."  
  
"Neither do I," Harry said, digging into a steaming pile of pasta with bits of sausage. "I'm already sick of them."  
  
"Yes, aren't we all." Alice sighed and took a dainty swallow of water.  
  
Harry nodded, and a silence prevailed between the two of them.  
  
Alice averted her gaze down to her lap. Her hands were folded neatly over her black silk skirt, and her golden hair fell over her face. He couldn't see her eyes, but he could instinctively feel overwhelming sadness radiating from her. Her shoulders were hunched over in a depressing, hopeless way.  
  
Harry reached out to put an arm around her shoulder, but she cringed as his fingertips touched her. He drew back, not understanding her sudden moodiness.  
  
"Harry," she said quietly, "I can't do it."  
  
"Can't do what?"  
  
"Fight Snape. It isn't fair. For him."  
  
"I know. That's what we've been trying to tell you."  
  
"But I can't call it off."  
  
"I understand that."  
  
Alice slowly raised her head and looked sorrowfully into Harry's eyes. Their gaze locked and in that moment, all of Alice's pain seemed to pass before Harry, and he looked away. "Don't call it off. Please," he begged of her.  
  
She blinked once or twice. "Don't worry; I never planned on doing so."  
  
She looked down at her plate of food and pushed it away disdainfully.  
  
"I'm not hungry anymore."  
  
Her hair fell into her face as she stood up and brushed off her dress. She smiled rather ruefully at Harry and turned. Not facing him, she said, "I'll be in my room."  
  
Harry sighed. "Always in her room. Such an introvert."  
  
One of the students walked over to Harry. "Professor," she said rather meekly, "my wand is broken."  
  
"Broken?"  
  
She looked downwards to her boots, which she was digging into the floor. "Yeah, my wand. It's acting really weird."  
  
Harry smiled. "Let me look."  
  
He took the wand into his hands and was frightened by the heat radiating from it. It nearly burned him. Fumbling and turning it, Harry tried not to drop the wand.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked questioningly.  
  
"Nothing, nothing." Harry didn't want to show any signs of alarm. But he knew that such heat was generally a sign of powerful Dark Magic.  
  
"Where'd you get this wand?"  
  
The girl blushed, her pale cheeks turning bright red. She mumbled, "Second hand. I don't know where; my mother fetched it. I'm a Muggle."  
  
Harry sharply drew in his breath. He was immediately reminded of Ginny, Ron's younger sister (now in her seventh and final year at Hogwarts). She had once gotten hold of a very powerful diary that almost ruined Hogwarts. It had at one time belonged to Tom Riddle, better known as Lord Voldemort.  
  
Harry felt around in his pockets until he found his own battered wand. "Here, borrow this. I'll show this to Dumbledore, and then give it back when we've fixed it." He tossed the wand to the girl, who said, "Thank you," and then left the room.  
  
He had no intention of bringing it to Dumbledore. He was going to take the wand to Alice. He walked briskly down the fairly deserted hallway and over to the portrait that was her doorway.  
  
"She's sleeping," the portrait said cheekily.  
  
"I don't give a damn," Harry retorted, sticking out his tongue. "You know who I am by now, so just open the damned door."  
  
The portrait seemed taken aback for a moment, but then mustered to sarcastically reply, "Your wish is my command."  
  
The portrait swirled into a small hole through which Harry ducked. Standing up straight again, Harry found Alice sleeping in the huge bed.  
  
Harry didn't really want to awaken her, but this was important. He slowly and quietly made his way over to the bed, and then whispered, "Alice."  
  
She groaned. "Hello, Harry." Stretching and yawning, she slowly sat straight. Her eyes snapped open as she pushed her blonde hair out of her face. "Wand? Let me see it."  
  
Harry sometimes forgot that Alice knew all. He handed her the wand without objection and she turned it slowly over in her hands. As she fingered it, the wand began to glow red with heat.  
  
"Jumping dragons," she muttered to herself. "Some curse. Some curse."  
  
"What?" Harry asked, leaning closer.  
  
"Obviously, powerful Dark Magic is at hand. Very powerful."  
  
"Like, how powerful?"  
  
Alice looked into his eyes, and he saw how serious it was. "Like, so powerful that the Muggle community, not to mention the magical community, is to be threatened."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Voldemort." The wand was now spitting fire, which Alice was dousing with a perpetual fall of water. It didn't seem capable of burning her, but Harry didn't think this too odd. After all, this was Alice.  
  
"Anyhow," she continued, finally letting the flaming wand fall to the ground, "I don't think we should let too many people in on this. Not yet."  
  
"Yes, but—"  
  
"There's no immediate danger, Harry. So what? A girl ended up with Voldemort's old wand. Let's not jump to conclusions. It doesn't mean that Voldemort is still out there. Even those who are gone from a place leave things behind. When my mother died, she left behind shelves of books and little magical trinkets. They're still out there, somewhere. So just take your time, Harry. Don't stress it."  
  
"Yes, all right."  
  
"Okay. Well, we'd better go and begin afternoon classes. And we have a duel tonight!"  
  
Alice stood and walked over to the doorway with Harry. They walked through it and out into the hall. She turned to him again. "Don't let it bother you, Harry," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. With this she turned and walked down the hall.  
  
Harry watched her for a moment, and then turned and made his way in the other direction.  
  
  
  
There was another hour before the duel. Harry had asked Emily to sit with him by the lake. He had made her a crown of flowers, and she had placed one in his buttonhole. Together they were looking out across the lake, until it disappeared from their view by the rosy line of the horizon.  
  
"I'm worried about Alice," Emily said, sighing.  
  
"Yeah, me too." Harry looked rather upset. Alice. Alice had said that he would "find his bride at Hogwarts." Who had she meant? Who? Now he just felt utterly confused. He liked Emily well enough, but for some reason, she didn't strike him as the type to be his wife. She could be awfully coy and flirtatious at times. As for Alice, she had talked about her future as though it were completely separate from his. And then there was Frank . . .  
  
Harry felt that Frank and Alice had a special friendship that he wasn't a part of. Just the other day, Frank had said something to the extent of "my birthday is coming up soon."  
  
And, without thinking, Alice had replied, "When?"  
  
Harry had felt completely shocked. She didn't know. She didn't know something. But the scariest part was when she laughed and had looked . . . surprised. Utterly surprised. Harry had never seen her look that way before.  
  
Sighing deeply, he stood. The days were getting chilly, and now that the sun was almost gone, Harry could feel the bite of winter deep within his bones. He helped Emily up and they started back towards the castle.  
  
"What's wrong, Harry?" Emily was looking at Harry; looking deep into the very depths of his soul. Harry turned away. "Nothing," he muttered, picking up his pace.  
  
"Is it the duel?"  
  
"Yeah," he sputtered, not telling her his secret jealousy of Frank.  
  
And to make matters worse, Harry found Alice and Frank in the orchard together as he neared the door. Alice was up in a tree, and Frank was pretending to not be able to climb it. Alice was laughing and laughing. She looked so happy.  
  
Harry opened the door, waited for Emily to go through it, and then slammed it bitterly.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked again.  
  
"Nothing. I'm just . . . really tired. I need to spend some time alone."  
  
Harry stalked off in the direction of his room. Emily just stood there for a moment, and then moved to the mirror, where she fixed her hair a little bit. "Well, that went really well . . ."  
  
She turned as the door opened and a gust of cold air filled the room. She drew what little robes she had on about her. Her bright red, mini- robe was not the ideal outfit for this weather, especially with its low-cut neck.  
  
Alice was still laughing as she stumbled into the room, grabbing for the doorpost to lean on. Her cheeks were rosy with the bite of the fall chill and her robes looked damp from the light mist that was falling outside. Frank had a merry sparkle in his eyes as he walked into the room. Glancing at Emily, he smiled broadly.  
  
"Hello, m' dear. Didn't see you."  
  
"Yes, I suppose not. I'm going to go get ready for the duel. Really, I need to wear a cloak or something." She looked down at her short robes.  
  
Frank also looked at the alluring outfit. "Yes . . . that would be wise . . ."  
  
Alice walked over to Emily. "I'd better get ready as well. You too, Frank."  
  
Frank suddenly looked solemn. "Yes, that would be wise . . ."  
  
"Yes, it would be wise . . ." Alice glanced at him mockingly. "Is that all you can say? One would think you're a parrot. Now go on; we don't want to be late!"  
  
"Bye now," Emily said, turning back to the mirror.  
  
Alice scuttled off down the dark corridor, Frank following slowly behind. He was too tired to care. And really, he didn't want to see the duel. He knew Alice could beat Snape, doubtlessly she could, but still . . .  
  
Being completely lost in his thoughts, Frank found himself colliding with somebody. He fell flat upon the hardwood floor, and a pile of books and the like fell on top of him.  
  
Frank looked up to see Snape glaring contemptuously at him. "My books, please?" he growled.  
  
Frank picked up one of the books. Dangerous Spells for the Insecure Wizard.  
  
"That's interesting," Frank said, as he gathered the rest into his arms. He handed Snape the stack of books.  
  
"Thank you," he hissed, turning on his heel and stomping off down the hall. Frank just sat there for a moment, and then brushed himself off and hurried toward his room. He did want to see Alice beat that unlikable Snape, after all.  
  
  
  
"Maybe she just forgot," McGonagall muttered, knowing deep inside that that was certainly no possibility.  
  
Snape was smirking in center of the crowd of teachers and seventh years. "So, our brave hero doesn't have a heart of iron after all, eh?"  
  
Harry glared at him. "Just shut up. Really, I know that something must have happened. Alice never goes back on her word."  
  
Frank and Emily nodded in agreement. Everyone, except Snape, seemed worried.  
  
"No," Snape said in a cold, laughing manner. "I'm sure she just chickened out. She knew she couldn't beat me!"  
  
It was dark outside, but everyone could see Snape's eyes glowing wickedly. Harry couldn't take it anymore.  
  
"I'm going to look for her," he said in a disgusted voice, "for no one else seems to care."  
  
"Wait—I'll come," McGonagall said.  
  
"No, that's all right," Harry assured her, his voice softening somewhat. "I'll find her. Myself."  
  
Harry walked off into the darkness. The trees of the Forbidden Forest loomed about him, and he could hear the ghastly howls and shrieks of terrifying, unidentified creatures. The ground was sodden (with rain? or blood?), which made walking harder than usual.  
  
He looked all about him, but in the dense vegetation, it was hard to make out any shape. He began to call for her.  
  
"Alice! Alice? Are you here?"  
  
He got no reply other than chilling silence.  
  
It began to sleet, and Harry found that it was far too cold for him to go much longer. But he had this feeling . . . something was terribly wrong. Alice was ill. Or had had one of her fits. Or maybe she had been hurt . . .  
  
Harry was so lost in his worry that he forgot to watch where he was going and tripped over something lying in his path. He fell forward and landed on the object blocking his way. With his face buried in the snow, he couldn't look at the object, but it was soft. It was covered in fabric. Harry pushed himself onto his knees.  
  
It was Alice.  
  
"Goddamn," he muttered, slapping her face. She was as white as the thin, slushy snow that was falling all about them. Her purple eyes were frozen open with a look of horror in her eyes, and her thin hands were colder than ice.  
  
"Just wake up," Harry said, rubbing her arms vigorously. "You are the most trouble of anyone I have ever met . . . so weak . . . so stubborn . . . so nerve-rackingly intelligent . . ." He punctuated each of his lamentations with a sharp slap to her face.  
  
After her face had become red with Harry's hand hitting it repeatedly, she moaned slightly. The dark was gathering closely to them.  
  
Harry ran over to a small puddle of cold water. Cupping his hands, he managed to scoop some of it and carry it over to Alice. He dribbled it over her face, and she moved her head away from it slightly.  
  
Harry sat down beside her and placed his head on his knees. Neither of them talked for a moment.  
  
After an uncomfortable pause, Alice raised her head and managed to clumsily turn herself to rest on her elbow. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes. "I missed the duel, didn't I?" she asked in a hoarse voice.  
  
"Yes," Harry said. He peered off into the darkness that engulfed them.  
  
Upon hearing this reply, Alice seemed slightly comforted. "That's fine."  
  
Harry lifted his head and gawked at her. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean," she coolly responded, "that I didn't want to have to hurt Snape. He stood absolutely no chance."  
  
"But—but—you've been disgraced!"  
  
"Not really. I had another fit. I couldn't help it." She was quiet for a moment, and then said, "Thank you for finding me."  
  
His eyes locked with hers, but there was no feeling in her eyes. Just an overwhelming sadness. She often puzzled him in such a way.  
  
She smiled ruefully. "I can't help my emotionless state, Harry. Please forgive me at times. It's just . . ." She looked as though she were at a loss for words. "It's just . . . my life is one long script that has already been written, and then rehearsed uncountable times in my head . . ." (Harry had an odd feeling that she knew the exact uncountable number), " . . . and nothing surprises me anymore. Except . . ." She looked reluctant to go any further.  
  
Harry, trying to be of comfort, said, "I understand."  
  
"No," Alice replied, with a sorrowful shake of her head, "you do not." She shifted her weight to her leg and tried to stand, but with a cry of pain she collapsed into the ever-growing drifts of snow about them.  
  
"I can't move yet," she managed weakly, leaning against a tree.  
  
"All right. I'll wait with you. No worries."  
  
"They'll be looking for us soon."  
  
"Let them look."  
  
"Yes," Alice said in a sleepy voice, "let them." She closed her eyes, and Harry kept silent vigil as she dozed peacefully.  
  
An hour later, they were found. But not by whom they had expected. 


	7. Love and War

Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball  
  
by Hannah  
  
Chapter Seven ~ Love and War  
  
The snow was piling around Harry and Alice in deep drifts. Harry had drifted off to sleep in the middle of the small path that etched its way like a black river through the darkened woods of terror.  
  
Harry wasn't dreaming about anything in particular. Meanwhile, Alice was shivering against the tree trunk, her mind overflowing with the wonders and horrors of life from its first moment to those yet to come. She too was sleeping, but not as peacefully.  
  
As the moon rose beyond the gnarled maze of trees that enclosed the dozing duo, Harry found himself awakened by a hand upon his shoulder.  
  
At first, he was too startled to move.  
  
"Harry." It was urgently whispering his name. "Harry."  
  
He played dead. Maybe whoever, or whatever, it was would leave.  
  
"Harry, wake up."  
  
He lay still.  
  
"Harry, dammit, wake up! This is urgent." The voice sounded panicked. There was a note of hysteria in the deep masculine voice.  
  
"Okay, okay," Harry replied sleepily. He slowly blinked open his eyes, and found himself staring into the fearful eyes of none other than . . .  
  
Ron.  
  
Harry sat up very quickly, and realized at that moment how cold it truly was. "God, it's freezing . . ."  
  
"Yeah, well, that's what you get when you sit outside in the snow for an hour," Ron replied. He glanced nervously around.  
  
"What's up? You look like you've seen a . . . okay, forget that one. We've seen our fair share of those. Anyhow, what's got you so uptight?"  
  
"Harry . . . I don't think this is the place to talk about it. I also want to talk with Alice." He glanced over at the shivering form of the woman. "Anyway . . . let's get back to the castle, and then we can discuss it in your room, or her room . . . whatever we do: hurry!"  
  
"Okay, okay." Harry made an attempt to pull himself off of the ground. He fell back down.  
  
"Give me a hand, will you?"  
  
"Sure." Ron offered a gloved hand. Harry put his frozen hand into it and Ron yanked him from the ground.  
  
"Let's awaken Alice, shall we?"  
  
"It would be a pity." Ron looked at her again. "Let's put her under some sort of sleeping spell and take her back to the castle."  
  
"Too late."  
  
They turned to see Alice stretching behind them. "Well? Let's head for Hogwarts."  
  
"All right." Ron looked a little taken aback, but he tried not to show it. He swirled his cape about him. "Let's go!"  
  
"Wait . . ." Alice deftly flourished her hand in the air and two capes were draped over her arm. She tossed one to Harry. "It's cold."  
  
"Thanks," he said.  
  
The three of them headed briskly towards the turrets of Hogwarts.  
  
  
  
Harry took off his snow-splattered cloak. The red material had turned a dark burgundy where the damp had set in. Alice took off her black cloak, which was, of course, accented with golden embroidery. She pointed at the fireplace in Harry's room; it burst into flames.  
  
Ron stood in the corner, glancing around at his surroundings. Harry felt slightly embarrassed; his room was quite shabby. Maybe he should let Alice fix it up, just a bit . . .  
  
"So," Harry prompted, "what's going on?"  
  
Still looking edgy, Ron cleared his throat. "Well . . . there's been wind of some foul play."  
  
"What kind of . . . foul play?"  
  
"That's just it. Nobody seems to have any idea of what has been happening. The Ministry just found out about it. Supposedly . . . Voldemort is on the rise again."  
  
Harry looked not only stunned, but also incredulous and unbelieving. "Voldemort? Who . . . who told you? How do you know? What, exactly, happened?"  
  
"That's all very sketchy. Sirius was the one who informed me of it. Anyway . . . apparently there was some sort of inexplicable death in southern France. And then another in Germany—they were killed the same way. It's gruesome. I don't know if—"  
  
He looked at Alice.  
  
She smiled at him. "You forget, at times, that I've already seen it."  
  
"Ah, yes . . ." Ron sounded rather distant.  
  
Harry was worried. This wasn't the light, cheerful Ron from Hogwarts. This was . . . someone else. Someone far more serious and brooding. Had Ron truly grown up? Or had something forced him to quickly accept reality?  
  
"Well, I was wondering if, by any chance, you could help us, Alice. Give us any more information, or something like that. Please." Ron looked pleading.  
  
"I can help you to a certain extent," she said, looking like she was hating every moment of this, "but beyond that—"  
  
"Anything." Ron looked so desperate.  
  
"Yes." She gazed into his eyes with such strong sympathy that Harry almost quailed. Quietly, she stood. "I'll go to my room for now. Call me when you need me."  
  
"Fine."  
  
Alice left the room, closing the squeaking door behind her.  
  
"Well . . ."  
  
"Ron." Harry was scrutinizing his friend. "There's something you're not telling me."  
  
"Harry . . ." Ron's eyes were pleading.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Harry walked over to his friend and placed a hand upon his shoulder. "Ron, please. Tell me. What is it?"  
  
"Harry . . . there have been other victims. Here, in England. They're not dead, but—"  
  
"Do I . . . know any of them?" Harry's eyes plainly showed his fear.  
  
"Well . . . Harry—" Ron's voice broke and his eyes became misty. "Hermione," he managed to whisper.  
  
"Good God," Harry muttered. "You mean—"  
  
Ron nodded solemnly. "Yes, she's once again fallen victim to Tom Riddle. You don't know the others, but still, it's tragic."  
  
"Yes." Harry fumbled blindly for a chair, and somehow managed to seat himself in one. "Hermione. Oh dear Lord."  
  
"Harry, it's deeper than that."  
  
"What?" Harry raised his head, which he had buried in his hands. He couldn't imagine the whole situation being much worse.  
  
"Well, Hermione and I—" His voice cracked. "Hermione and I . . ."  
  
"Jumping dragons, the two of you . . ."  
  
Ron nodded his head in utmost desolation. Tears were finally brimming over his eyes and were falling down his pallid cheeks.  
  
"Oh no," Harry muttered miserably. It had gotten worse. Much worse.  
  
"Harry."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What . . . what am I going to do?" Ron sobbed, relinquishing all dignity to his sorrow. He threw his pride to the four winds as he groped for Harry's hand.  
  
Harry grasped his friend's hand and pulled him close. "It's okay. We'll get through this. We will, Ron." Harry said all this with a determination he did not feel. At the moment, he felt very empty and hollow. "How bad—how did—what's wrong with her?"  
  
"We don't know, Harry. It's like someone's got complete control over her. I didn't get to see her. Sirius wouldn't let me. He knew about . . . us. But he said that she was in a trance. She just walked around not seeing or recognizing anything. Harry, I was about to ask her to marry me! What's to become of her? Of me?" He shook his head in complete and utter disbelief.  
  
"I don't know, Ron, I just don't know. We'll find a way to pull through. Don't worry about it. Please, don't."  
  
"I don't have a job, I don't have Hermione . . . oh Harry. The world's just falling apart."  
  
"You've got me, Ron. Together, we'll make it."  
  
"I hope so. I do hope so."  
  
"Now you just make yourself comfortable here. I'll find somewhere to sleep." Harry stood and began to walk to the door.  
  
"No, I can't possibly take your room," Ron objected.  
  
"Ron, you will. You must. Where else could you go? I'll find somewhere to sleep. Don't worry about it. Until you're back up on your feet."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Harry walked toward the door. He was almost there when Ron interrupted.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Thank you." Harry could sense the relief in his friend's voice.  
  
"It's nothing, Ron. What are friends for? Just relax. Sleep. We'll clear everything up in the morning."  
  
Harry closed the door behind him and headed for Frank's room, dreading the thought of tomorrow. He tried to push the thought from his head. A good night's sleep, he told himself. That's all I need. Maybe this is just some awful dream. He yawned. Maybe he could sleep on Frank's sofa or something.  
  
  
  
Harry was awoken the next morning by a tap on the door. He stretched; the sofa wasn't nearly long enough for his tall frame and his feet were dangling over the armrest.  
  
He looked toward the bed to see if Frank was going to get the door, but he wasn't there. Harry stood and mumbled, "Coming, coming," as he headed toward the door.  
  
Warily, he looked through a magical keyhole that could only be seen from his side of the room. He saw Alice, Frank, and Ron standing on the other side of the door.  
  
Swinging it open resolutely, Harry greeting them with a sleepy "good morning to you." Alice smiled, Frank winked, and Ron just seemed to acknowledge it with those gloomy green eyes.  
  
"Hello, Harry," Frank said in a cheerful voice. "Late sleeper, are we? Exactly half an hour before classes, you know."  
  
"Oh dear." Harry's eyes bulged a bit as he turned and looked for a clock somewhere in the room.  
  
"Eight thirty," Alice prompted with an amused grin.  
  
"Urgh." Harry looked around the room. "Frank, can I borrow a robe?"  
  
"Yeah, sure. Better borrow a brush, too." Frank was trying all too hard to hide his laughter. Harry's hair was sticking out all over his head like a bolt of lightning had hit him.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"No problem. Should we wait for you? We've already eaten our breakfast." Alice said.  
  
"Yeah, sure, you ate breakfast. Like, a bite of toast?"  
  
Alice's purple eyes leapt with fire.  
  
"Sorry, sorry," Harry muttered apologetically. He picked a robe from the tidy chest of drawers in the corner and threw it over his head. Damn the old robe; it was much too long. The gray garment bagged around his knees like the skin of an elephant.  
  
Ron half-heartedly handed him a hairbrush.  
  
"Thank you," Harry muttered as he ran it through his thick, unruly black hair once or twice.  
  
"Okay, cool to go."  
  
"Yeah, well, you want breakfast?"  
  
"Nah, I can survive without it." Harry's stomach let out a huge rumble that he hoped no one else heard.  
  
"Okay." Alice was examining him. She didn't look pleased. "Here . . ."  
  
She took the wand out of her pocket, mumbled something, and the robes fit!  
  
"Damn, she's good," Ron grumbled under his breath.  
  
"Sorry, Frank. I'll fix them up at the end of the day."  
  
"Fine, fine." Frank was smiling at her.  
  
"God," Harry mumbled to himself. Was it just him, or was Frank practically tripping over himself whenever he talked to Alice?  
  
Harry shook his head in disbelief. I can't believe I'm jealous of him, he told himself. What the hell is going on?  
  
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Ron looked so desolate that Harry felt like jumping at his every command.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, just a second," he grumbled rather crossly. He had to admit that sleeping on a couch was not the most comfortable or relaxing way to spend one's night.  
  
Alice pushed open the door and stepped into its frame. "Y'all comin'?"  
  
Frank stepped eagerly out behind her, followed by a droopy-armed Ron, and lastly Harry, who shut the door behind them all. They stood in a dark hallway; Frank's doorway was cleverly concealed behind a statue of a very tall, slender witch with flowing bronze hair and a stunning silver robe draped over a well-cast body.  
  
Harry took a moment to admire the statue. There was something about it. He couldn't put his finger on it . . .  
  
"Harry? You there, bud?" Frank startled Harry out of his trance. His face was creased with worry as Harry turned to face him.  
  
"Yeah, just thinking . . ."  
  
"Okay, well, let's think somewhere else, all right? Come on," Frank directed as he led them down the unfamiliar passage and into the more commonly used hallways near the Great Hall.  
  
But they continued past the large doors that entered into the dining and social area and began to take twisting paths down and around and all over the place. Hidden stairways that not even Harry had known about were revealed as Alice led them on a journey through the castle. Harry was about to exasperatedly ask where they were going when Alice stopped right before a very worn rug on the floor.  
  
"What are we doing here?" Ron asked in confusion. The corridor ended abruptly in a blank wall.  
  
Alice glanced around in a furtive manner. "We just came here for fun," she said dryly.  
  
"What's really going on?" Frank questioned in a candid way.  
  
"There's a staff meeting. Here."  
  
"Surely not . . . here?" Harry was looking at her as though she had no sanity at all.  
  
"Yes, here," she replied. "Here." She tapped the rug with her black- slippered foot.  
  
"Oh," Ron whispered in new understanding.  
  
Frank was already stooping to tug the carpet away from the secret entrance to the room that they were headed for.  
  
Slowly and painstakingly, the four of them managed to pull the heavy rug from the entrance. A small trapdoor became visible.  
  
Alice muttered something and the small door sprang up, hitting the floor with a resonant thud. The small hole in the floor was filled with an eerie green light.  
  
"They're here already, I think," she stated, as though this was an everyday way of entering a room.  
  
She lowered herself lithely into the hole, followed by Frank, then Harry, and finally Ron.  
  
"Close the trap door," a voice whispered. It sounded like Lupin, but Harry wasn't sure. His eyes weren't yet used to the dim lighting.  
  
Alice closed it with magic before Harry could reach it. He also heard the carpet being dragged across the floor.  
  
Slumping into a nearby chair, Alice sighed and quietly prompted, "So? What to do about the Voldemort scare . . ."  
  
"We were hoping you would tell us that," McGonagall admitted rather sheepishly.  
  
"I'm afraid that I cannot . . . just little bits and pieces . . ."  
  
Harry's eyes had adjusted to the room by then. He saw that the whole staff was in the small underground chamber. Most were standing, but more important and prominent people, such as Dumbledore and Alice, were sitting. Someone offered Harry a chair. Shaking his head, Harry turned to face Frank, who was speaking.  
  
"Really, we shouldn't take this so seriously. As of yet, we know nothing of the nature of the attacks –"  
  
"Nothing?" Hagrid roared. "Course we know summat 'bout it! Four dead now and six in trances! What d' yeh call that, Frank?"  
  
"I think he's saying," Harry interjected, "that we don't honestly know who, or what, is behind all of this. We need to take things a bit slower and not jump to conclusions."  
  
"Oughtn't we?"  
  
Every person in the crowed dungeon turned to gape at Alice. Her eyes seemed full of anger and pain.  
  
"Oughtn't we? What, exactly, are we accomplishing through squabbling? Nothing. Absolutely nothing! Stop this childishness. It's an outrage. For God's sake, men and women are dying at the wrath of the Dark Lord! And who is to stop it? Who, may I ask? There are only two qualified souls in all the wizarding world . . ."  
  
"You and Harry," McGonagall muttered in sudden realization.  
  
"Precisely. But then comes the next question: what is to be done?"  
  
"You tell us, Alice." Dumbledore looked almost amused. Harry thought that that was absolutely sick. What could be at all humorous in a situation like this?  
  
She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "I—can't. I wish I could, but . . . I can't. I'm sorry."  
  
"We understand," McGonagall reassured her. Even so, it didn't sound like she was being completely truthful. Harry had to admit it: Alice could be exasperating at times.  
  
Ron's face suddenly lit up. He brushed his flaming orange hair out of his eyes and said in a commanding tone, "Listen up! Here's the plan . . ."  
  
  
  
"And that is how—"  
  
BRIIING!  
  
The students of Harry's class filed out the door, not even waiting for their professor to excuse them.  
  
"Hang on! Your homework is . . . oh, never mind." Harry looked very lost when he heard someone tap on his door.  
  
"Come in," he said rather shortly.  
  
"So grumpy?" Emily Rightsee swiveled into the room with a seductive smile on her face.  
  
His face lit up slightly (not much) when he saw her. At least someone was considerate enough to drop in after such an excruciatingly trying day at work. His classroom was cluttered with balled up pieces of paper, little paper airplanes (probably with notes written all over them), and little tidbits of junk that people had forgotten to take from the class.  
  
"Hello, Emily," he grumbled rather darkly. Maybe if she felt sorry for me . . .  
  
"Hey, Harry," she chirped back. "Maybe you wanna go to Hogsmeade? I think Frank and Alice are going . . ."  
  
Harry's heart sank a bit. What are you doing? he asked himself. The most wonderful woman in the whole school is practically asking you out on a date, and what's running through your head?  
  
He realized that she'd been talking to him. Her tan face was fixed with a skeptical look.  
  
"What?" he mumbled.  
  
"I said, are you going?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Sure."  
  
"Okay then, you'd better get ready to go. We're leaving in a half hour, and I think we're going to La Mariposa."  
  
"Really? Isn't that very expensive?"  
  
"Yeah, but Alice wanted to treat us all. She probably didn't even earn the money . . ."  
  
Harry perked up slightly at this groaning response. What does she hold against Alice? "Yeah, well . . . better go get ready . . ." Harry jumped up from his chair, hitting his knee on his desk in the process.  
  
"God," he yelped as he clutched at it. "Half an hour, you say?"  
  
"Yeah, you'd better go . . ."  
  
"Yup." Harry limped out of the room, shouting over his shoulder, "Close the door, will you?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
Now that Harry was gone, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Really, if he wasn't famous and all, I don't think that I'd bother . . ."  
  
Swaying on her high heels, she tottered over to the door and walked out, slamming it behind her.  
  
  
  
Harry stood outside La Mariposa, the fanciest wizarding restaurant in all of England. He tugged at the bow tie on his tux before nodding to a black-robed servant standing just outside the door. The man smiled politely and bowed as he gracefully swept the gold-embossed oak door open. Harry nervously made his way inside.  
  
The people and the intricate structure stunned him. All the male diners were wearing tuxes; the women were dressed in all manner of fine gowns, dripping with rubies, diamonds, and pearls.  
  
The building itself was even grander than Hogwarts. The room was plastered in gold leaf, and the only lighting came from the candelabras on the tables and the giant crystal chandelier over the dance floor. The floors were polished oak; the tables were clothed in black lace.  
  
A waiter walked up to Harry. "May I help you, sir?"  
  
"Uh—yes, I'm with another party . . . maybe the name Oak? Or perhaps . . . Alice? I really don't know." Harry looked lost.  
  
Luckily, he wasn't for long.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
He recognized Alice's voice immediately. "Alice, how nice to see you. Thank God, I didn't know what name you used."  
  
"Follow me, sir," the waiter courteously mumbled.  
  
"Yes, certainly." Harry hooked Alice's arm on the way to the table where Frank and Emily sat. She smiled at him, and some chilling feeling ran down his spine. I'm not going to think like this . . . not tonight . . .  
  
"Hello," Emily oozed cordially.  
  
"Harry!" Frank cried, jumping to his feet to greet him.  
  
"Emily, Frank," he said, inclining his head to each in turn.  
  
He sat by Emily, who immediately took his hand in hers. Jumping Dragons, he thought to himself.  
  
"So . . ." Alice looked somewhat far away tonight, like she wasn't completely there. There was a pinched, pained look on her face.  
  
"Let's dance," Frank suggested.  
  
"Um . . . okay." She stood and straightened her usual silk skirt. Tonight she also wore a gold evening shawl around her shoulders and a black and gold tiara in her hair. It was all very becoming upon her. And, Harry didn't know how, but she had changed the color of the swirling mists in her crystal ball to be gold and black.  
  
"Come on, Harry," Emily said, tugging on his hand.  
  
She, too, was dressed extravagantly. Her dress was green satin, with small blue bows adorning it. Its neckline was far too low, it hardly went halfway down her thighs, and she had caked makeup on her face until you would hardly think that a person was hidden under it all.  
  
"Okay . . ."  
  
A reluctant Harry was dragged out onto the dance floor. Once on the dance floor, she placed his hands on her hips and began to sway to the music. Harry tried to keep a distance from her, but she pulled him closer.  
  
"Harry," she whispered in his ear, "I'm so happy right now . . ."  
  
It was then that he realized how miserable he was with her. She wasn't the one for him. Not at all. She was so . . . different. He really wanted—  
  
"Harry," Frank mumbled as they brushed by each other. "Wanna chance with Alice? I'll take Emily."  
  
Harry was all too eager. "Yes, of course." He looked at Emily, who was glaring at him.  
  
"Harry . . . no, I don't want to . . . Harry—"  
  
Despite the protests, Harry handed her off to Frank, who in turn passed him Alice. She was smiling as she lightly placed a thin white hand on his shoulder. Her nails were not their typical red, but black swirled into gold.  
  
Harry smiled in return as he encircled her waist with his arms. They danced to the slow number, and Harry felt his heart skip a beat.  
  
He glanced over his shoulder across the dim room and glimpsed Frank and Emily out of the corner of his eye. Biting back a laugh, he turned back to Alice. Emily was holding Frank as far from her as possible, and he looked fairly miserable himself.  
  
He broke the silence between them by whispering in her ear, "So, you and Frank, are you . . ."  
  
She took a deep breath, and replied, "No. You and Emily . . .?"  
  
"Nah," he said almost too quickly.  
  
"I see."  
  
All that could be heard was the music and the clicking of high-heeled shoes on the wooden dance floor. Far off, the slight buzz of dinner chatter could be heard.  
  
Rather hesitantly, Harry pulled Alice a little closer. She seemed to seize up a bit, but she didn't pull away. Nor did she object. Harry had to smile a bit in spite of himself.  
  
The two slowly twirled across the dance floor until the number ended. As Harry reluctantly drew away from her, he caught a glimmer of a smile on her face. He led her back to their seats hand in hand.  
  
The dinner flew past for Harry. Everything was a blur, somewhat. He remembered ordering some sort of crab dinner, and drinking the most heavenly champagne, but most of all, he remembered Alice's furtive smiles.  
  
Emily kept trying to gain his attention, but to no avail. Harry was hopelessly lost in his own little dream world. What had he ever seen in Emily? Sure, she was good looking. And she could be nice. But still . . .  
  
Harry apparated back into his room at Hogwarts. As he undressed for bed, his mind was awhirl with a jumble of thoughts.  
  
Crawling into bed, Harry let out a deep sigh. He pulled the blue cotton sheets up to his chin and smiled as he succumbed to sleep.  
  
Harry was in love. 


	8. Strange Goings On

Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball  
  
by Hannah  
  
Chapter Eight ~ Strange Goings On  
  
The staff was once again gathered in the dark little rock cavern. The greenish glow still radiated from the walls and the people all had scared looks on their faces. But now a glimmer of hope gleamed in their eyes.  
  
"Well, there's not much we can really do . . . not until an attack comes close to home," McGonagall concluded.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Run this by us one more time, Alice?"  
  
She looked somewhat exasperated. "Okay, we need to wait until the next attack to see what's happened, right? So we set out bait."  
  
"What kind of . . . bait?" Harry asked, gulping.  
  
"Well, someone who exasperates him. And there are only a few people who I know who manage that nicely. Harry, Dumbledore, and myself."  
  
McGonagall heaved a sigh. "So what do you propose?'  
  
"That's the only catch. We have to be wily. He'll be expecting something like this. I suggest that we have one of us offer to switch to his side, as long as he promises not to harm a certain person. For example . . . I might walk up to Voldemort and say, 'I know I stand no chance against your power, so I'll switch over to your side as long as you don't harm . . . Harry.' So then, of course, he'll refuse, correct? But he'll also do something else—"  
  
"He'll harm Harry! Or at least, attempt to. Of course. It's so brilliantly simple . . ."  
  
"Just one catch," Frank pointed out.  
  
"What?" asked Dumbledore.  
  
"Well," Alice admitted nervously, "there's always the possibility that something could go wrong . . . horribly wrong . . ."  
  
"It's a risk we have to take," McGonagall stated firmly.  
  
"I'm afraid so. And I'm willing to take it," Alice interjected.  
  
"Good. And you, Harry? You're the other prominent enemy of the Dark Lord."  
  
Harry was hesitant. He bit his lip until it almost bled. "Sure. I suppose."  
  
"Wonderful!" Dumbledore leapt to his feet. It always surprised everyone to see such abundant energy in the little man.  
  
"Well . . .when do we start?" Alice was beginning to look nervous.  
  
"I dunno." At times Snape was so frank that it scared Harry. "It's a stupid idea, you know. What is the probability of making this work exactly as our little genius has planned?"  
  
"Oh, do shut up, Snape," Frank responded irritably. "Don't be so critical. I don't see you making any attempt as saving the wizarding community. You're not risking your life to save others. So please . . . shut up!"  
  
Alice smiled. "Thank you. Well, let's go. I'm so tired . . ."  
  
Harry saw that her customary purple bags were back, faintly covered by Muggle makeup. It must be hard to find makeup that light, he found himself pondering stupidly.  
  
"Yes. I suppose we could all use some rest. We've been pulling this way out of proportion." McGonagall rose and covered a yawn with a tiny pale hand.  
  
Ron rose, after being silent practically the whole meeting. "Harry—" he exclaimed, gripping his friend's arm for support. His face was a ghastly shade of white, like someone had whitewashed him thoroughly.  
  
"Harry, it's Hermione. She's calling me . . . I must go to her—I must . . ."  
  
Harry had to tug his friend backward viciously to keep him from running for the door.  
  
"Hold on, Ron. I said—hold on!" Harry was gritting his teeth to help bear the strain.  
  
He looked at Alice, his eyes wild with bewilderment.  
  
"What's he doing this for? What's going on?"  
  
Alice shook her head, her downcast head veiling her eyes with a wave of golden hair. "Harry . . . act as you would think in your best interest . . ."  
  
"Dammit! He's gotten to Ron too, hasn't he? There's going to be no 'plan!' There's no need for one. Voldemort doesn't even materialize to attack his victims! He's a coward . . . God, what do we do now?"  
  
Everyone looked on in silence as Harry's outburst ended.  
  
"Harry, I'm afraid that there's not much we can do. Just try to keep an eye on Ron . . ."  
  
Everyone looked at Ron, who was still struggling. Frank stepped forward and put a restraining hand on his shoulder.  
  
"There's nothing we can do," McGonagall concluded. "Voldemort has him under a powerful spell. I've heard that if keep a person under this sort of influence from following their 'commands,' they refuse to eat or take drink and eventually die. I suggest we follow him where ever Voldemort leads him."  
  
Alice smiled grimly. Standing and removing her golden cloak from the back of her chair, she stated, "Well, I'm ready. What are you all waiting for?"  
  
  
  
Ron had led them through the Forbidden Forest and into a clearing that none of them, even Hagrid, had ever before seen.  
  
Meanwhile, they all stood and watched in fascination as he talked to the inanimate rock located directly in the middle of the dusty floor.  
  
"I've never seen anything like it," Lupin breathed. "It's almost as though it's talking right back to him."  
  
"It probably is," Alice added softly. "He's speaking to it in rock- tongue."  
  
"What's he saying?" inquired a curious Hagrid.  
  
She remained quiet, as though she had not heard the question.  
  
"Perhaps he is talking too softly for her to hear," Harry commented in a hoarse whisper. He, as well as all the others, knew that that much was not true; they were all quite certain that she was following the whole conversation in her mind's eye. However, they also knew that this must be one of those times where she could not share her findings.  
  
"This is getting us nowhere," Snape muttered bitterly.  
  
"Not true," Frank quipped. "See, we now know an area that is subject to Voldemort's power. Does this look like an average clearing to you? It doesn't to me. Look at the ground: packed flat. And that round rock in the middle? Is that just some fluke of nature, being perfectly centered like so?"  
  
Everyone examined his or her surroundings. The rock that Ron was whispering to was very flat and almost perfectly round. It was located in the exact center of the small clearing. Meanwhile a very thick wall of trees hedged in the small gathering spot, and no one would find it unless they were looking for it. Harry counted the number of large oaks surrounding the small hollow.  
  
"Thirteen," he said in awe.  
  
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "You're certain?"  
  
"Most surely that means nothing?" Snape sneered mockingly.  
  
"Of course it does. That is Voldemort's calling card number, is it not?" McGonagall looked very uncomfortable.  
  
"Oh, poppycock!" Lupin hissed. "That's not the sign. The sign is the Dark Mark. Unless we see the skull with the snake as it's tongue, we're fine. Remember? Thirteen is not Voldemort's mark, but Slytherin's."  
  
"Severus would know," Alice hinted darkly.  
  
"We'll just wait and see," Professor Sprout stuttered.  
  
"My God!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed.  
  
"What is it?" Snape asked irritably, glaring at Alice with utmost loathing.  
  
"The Dark Mark," she whispered, her whole countenance blanching.  
  
"No," gasped Professor Flitwick. "You can't be serious . . ."  
  
"But she is." Frank said it solemnly, pointing to the small marking in the middle of the unnaturally rounded stone. Everyone surged forward en masse to examine it.  
  
"Jumping dragons, he's right," Snape exclaimed. He pulled back the sleeve of his robe to examine the Dark Mark that was tattooed into his own flesh. He had once been a Death Eater, or a follower of Voldemort.  
  
"I want you all to remain calm." Dumbledore announced. Meanwhile," he continued, "I want this area under strict surveillance. If anything, anything at all, happens here, I want to know about it. Now lets head back."  
  
Without a word, the company trekked back to the castle.  
  
  
  
Harry found himself knocking on Alice's portrait door at five minutes before midnight.  
  
"Dammit, where is she?" he muttered in exasperation. He was worried; Ron still hadn't returned from the forest, and the castle and its grounds were far too quiet for his liking.  
  
"Yes?" She sounded bone-weary as the door swirled open. She admitted him silently, already knowing whom it was.  
  
"So." She sat back down on the bed, swinging her pale legs slowly. "You're worried about Ron? I'm afraid there isn't much we can do—"  
  
"Isn't much," Harry repeated. "So is there something? Anything?"  
  
She looked grim. "Of course. There's always something that can be done, Harry. There's never a time where a person can lay back and say, 'There's nothing to be done.' In the end, an extreme course of action can always be taken. But, usually, it is better to leave to situation be rather than attempt the near impossible."  
  
Harry's eyes must have been pleading, for she turned away. "Please, don't ask me for help, Harry. Can you not understand the pain that my extraordinary gift often puts me through? If I had it my way, I would like nothing more than to help your friend; he is a good man. But can you not see? I cannot. No matter how much I wish to right the evil that is happening, it is not . . . not . . ." She was at a loss for words as she let out a choking sob.  
  
"I'm sorry," she added sincerely. "Truly, I am. I wish I could. I do, I do—"  
  
"Don't do this to yourself," he reassured her. "I was just hoping—" He cut himself off. "It was foolish of me."  
  
"I cannot blame you in the slightest," she added wistfully. "To be a normal wizard, like you . . . I would do anything. To be a normal Muggle . . ."  
  
"It would be bliss," Harry finished for her.  
  
Alice's eyes met his. In those swirling violet depths, Harry almost wanted to cry out at the extent of suffering and knowledge they possessed. "I'm glad that finally I have met someone who could at least understand in the least way."  
  
"I'm glad I could be that person."  
  
Harry leaned in slightly closer to her, closing his eyes as he did so. He felt her jump slightly as he put his hand behind her neck . . .  
  
"No!" she sobbed as she pulled away. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I . . . I can't . . ."  
  
Harry saw a look of such bewildered pain in her eyes that he almost wanted to cry out himself. She tensed up as though a great hand had been squeezed about her abdomen and then let her go. She drooped in relief, and then said, quite plainly, "I'm sorry. If you want to . . . I'm fine now. Really." She looked into his eyes, and he saw a strange calm there. Almost as though she were being forced—  
  
Harry held back a strong urge to take her word. "Not now," he mumbled affectionately, tweaking her nose. She actually smiled. It had been quite some time since he'd seen that. "Listen, tomorrow—would you—"  
  
"It would be my pleasure." Her voice was full of happiness. "I'm glad that our friendship has worked out this way, Harry."  
  
"As am I." Harry drew a deep, shuddering breath. "Well, I suppose I'll go."  
  
"Wasn't there something else?" Her voice was slightly mocking, but in a pleasant way.  
  
"Hmm . . ." Harry thought for a moment. "Oh yes! Does the palace seem, well—oddly quiet to you? Almost eerily so?"  
  
"Now that you mention it, yes." She smiled. "But I wouldn't think much of it. Good night Harry. See you tomorrow."  
  
She crawled with the grace of a cat under her covers, pulling the gold silk sheets up to her chin.  
  
"Good night," he hissed as he walked through the doorway. It closed behind him without sound.  
  
He leaned against the wall once outside the room and took a deep breath of the rather stale air. Alice could sure be puzzling at times. It was almost as though someone else had control of her. Stop thinking like that, he told himself. So he quieted his thoughts and listened instead. He was still rather unsettled by the unusual quiet of the castle. Listening intently for the slightest noise, Harry heard not even the rats or owls that one would normally be quite capable of detecting.  
  
Suddenly, Harry was scared nearly witless by a large crashing noise a floor or two directly above him. Scrambling for the nearest staircase, he clambered over it as quickly as he possibly could. As he approached the landing, he realized that all had gone quiet again. He searched his mind to remember what rooms this floor contained. The chemistry lab, the janitor's closet, a few offices . . .  
  
But no one should be on that level at this time of night. What was going on?  
  
Harry made a slow round of the floor, but found nothing of the slightest interest. Everything was in its proper place; even the laundry room was filled with neat stacks of clothing that weren't the slightest bit askew.  
  
The dim light made objects much harder to see, but Harry shook his head as he headed back for the staircase. The moonlight from the window above streamed down upon his face and the stone stairs below.  
  
The light was jagged and uneven . . .  
  
Harry jerked his head up and scrutinized the window. His blood went cold and his hands turned to ice as he saw the shattered window located ten feet above him.  
  
But there's no broken glass, he told himself. So it must've—  
  
Sudden realization hit Harry, and he slid down to the floor, feeling ill. Someone must've broken it from the inside. That was the only reasonable explanation. But how? And why?  
  
As soon as Harry could stand again, he tottered down the staircase, headed toward Dumbledore's private bedroom. Dumbledore needed to know. But Dumbledore was not there.  
  
  
  
Harry stood in front of the students of Gryffindor, who were gathered in their common room. A fire was blazing in the fireplace; even though it was only September, the snows had begun.  
  
"There are no classes today."  
  
Instead of the expected cheers, an uncanny silence fell over the children. Harry tugged at the neck of his robe.  
  
"Why?" a quiet girl near the front of the room asked.  
  
Alice didn't look at the children, but off into space. "Because there was some sort of . . . occurrence last night, and the teachers want to find out what it was. Meanwhile, none of the students are to leave their rooms, meaning Gryffindor Tower for all of us. Harry and I will stay here, as will other teachers who are Heads of House stay in their common rooms. The others will conduct a thorough search of the grounds."  
  
Ron's sister, Ginny, looked questioningly at Harry. "So what are we to do? How long will this take?"  
  
"I wish I knew, Ginny."  
  
Her eyes brimmed with tears, even though she fought them. "And Ron . . . they haven't found him yet?"  
  
"Not for certain. Perhaps they will find them during their search." Alice walked over to her and knelt beside her, taking her head in one of her hands. She looked directly into her eyes.  
  
"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself," she quoted. "Remember that, and live by it."  
  
"I will try." Ginny wiped her eyes and blew her nose on the handkerchief one of the Gryffindors nearby offered her.  
  
"Now," Harry announced, "you may either return to your rooms and find something to amuse yourself, or you can stay out here and do whatever you like in here."  
  
Most of the students stood to go to their rooms. A few stayed in armchairs by the fire, reading lesson books or the like.  
  
Harry and Alice retreated to a small table in the corner.  
  
She put her hands out onto the table, looking sullen. "Harry, this doesn't look good at all."  
  
"I know, I know. At least we didn't tell them about Dumbledore, or the fact that someone was hiding in Hogwarts who shouldn't have been here."  
  
Absently, Harry placed his hands over hers. They were icy. "You must be freezing."  
  
"Oh, not really. I'm used to being somewhat chilled." She sounded rather distant. "I feel rather helpless, stuck in here with the students. I would much rather be helping the others."  
  
"I know you would. But if there is any attack on the children, you can help protect them."  
  
"True true." She sighed heavily. "Really, Harry, what are we to do about food and drink?"  
  
"I'm not sure." He frowned in concentration. He hadn't really thought about that.  
  
"Maybe we can Apparate it?" he mused.  
  
"You know that it will just make us hungrier and thirstier." She was very blunt.  
  
"Well, it's already almost ten in the morning. Why not wait two hours or so, and then one of us can sneak down to get the food?"  
  
"All right. Would you rather stay here or get the rations?"  
  
"Whichever one you'd prefer not to do."  
  
She was poised in thought. "I think I will go and get the food," she said slowly. "Then I can check on the teachers in the other houses and try to get them some of the supplies, too. Or at least tell them they may wish to do the same. Thank goodness every house now has one male and one female head in it."  
  
"All right. Until then . . ."  
  
"We wait." She sounded slightly saddened by this thought. "We could organize a game of some sort."  
  
"Like what? Most wizarding games are for two people."  
  
"I know some Muggle games." She stood with a smile. "How about Heads Up, Seven Up? Or Hide-and-Go-Seek? Perhaps Four Corners?"  
  
"Children's games," Harry said while grinning madly.  
  
"Yes, well," Alice managed while trying to act hurt, "you're never too old to connect with your inner child."  
  
"Something us old fogies would know so much about."  
  
"Isn't it though?" She grinned. "I'll go find any interested girls. Meet you back here?"  
  
"Yeah, sure."  
  
They went their separate ways to scrounge up enough students to play the games that were reminiscent of their pasts.  
  
  
  
Alice scurried down the corridor, a sack behind her full of food and bottled water. She was headed toward Slytherin House, which was down in the dungeons. She had already visited Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw; both were following the Gryffindor lead and sneaking to the kitchens.  
  
She made it to the entrance of the Slytherin House: a small patch of bare stone wall. "Mudbloods," she whispered, and it swung cleanly open on its hinges.  
  
Several cruel faces turned to glare at her. She smiled slightly. "Is Severus here?"  
  
"What do you want with him, Miss Coward?" one of them snickered.  
  
"Very funny," she muttered under her breath. "Have you any food? Or drink?" she asked aloud.  
  
They hesitated, but only for a moment. "No, and we don't want any that you Gryffindors would offer us. It's probably tainted with something," sniffed a black-haired, pointy-chinned girl in the corner.  
  
"I wasn't going to bring you any," Alice scoffed. "I just wanted to tell you that the kitchen is open and that if either Severus or Ms. Eweling wanted to go fetch rations, they are very welcome to do so." She frowned. "Where are your heads of house, exactly?" she inquired, already knowing the answer.  
  
"We don't know," they admitted. "They must have gone on the search with the rest of the staff. We'd figured that all of the teachers had."  
  
She sighed. "They went, although they weren't supposed to. Harry's going to have a fit." She bit her lip.  
  
"Okay, we're going on a raid of the pantry. Follow me; I'm dropping this food off at Gryffindor, and then I'm going to take all of you to the kitchen. Bring back the food and drink that you can carry, and—I will stay with you all until the search party returns."  
  
"As you say, Miss Oak." At least they weren't as rude as most people expected them to be. Not all the time, that is.  
  
"Or maybe you should stay here . . . I don't know if Dumbledore would want all of you knowing where Gryffindor is located."  
  
"Most of us know."  
  
"Yes, but not all of you. Very well, come along."  
  
The students filed out after the young teacher, who led them on a wild goose chase through the castle and to Gryffindor Tower, where the Pink Lady's portrait was.  
  
She looked rather flabbergasted to see the mess of Slytherin students behind her.  
  
"You know I know the password," she muttered. "Please open, and I will go."  
  
The Pink Lady gulped. "All right, all right . . ."  
  
The portrait swung open to reveal a small group with anxious faces. The looks on their faces turned to those of horror when they saw all the Slytherins behind her.  
  
"You behave, or you'll be awfully sorry that you ever dealt with someone as powerful as me," she threatened as she leapt through the portrait hole.  
  
"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" she teased as she stepped into the room. "Here's the food, dole it out and rationalize . . . the Slytherin leaders left with the search party, so I'm going to stay at their house, all right? Be good for Harry . . . do what he tells you . . . toodles!"  
  
With that, she was already scrambling back through the portrait hole. No one in all of Gryffindor had moved or said a word. Suddenly Harry shouted, "Wait!"  
  
"Yes?" She paused in the space between the walls.  
  
"Take care, will you?"  
  
"Of course. I don't suspect I'll see any of you until tomorrow, all right? G'night!"  
  
The portrait swung into place behind her. Dusting her hands with one another, she glanced them over. "Well? What are we waiting for? Let's head out!"  
  
They followed her on another long journey through corridors and over stairways to the Great Hall, and through one last small door into the kitchen. There she met one of the Ravenclaw leaders. She looked rather surprised to see Alice with all the Slytherin students, but said nothing. As soon as the small, stooped woman had left, Alice shooed all the children into the Great Hall where they sat at their normal table. She then began to gather food for them all.  
  
The kitchen was a small, stone room with no windows and only one door. The walls were cluttered with stoves, cabinets, and counters. There was a small water pump in one corner of the room. Alice filled several small barrels with water for later, and then began to fill cups with it. This will take forever, she thought despairingly.  
  
"Miss Oak? May we help?" A few of the seventh years were standing in the frame of the narrow doorway.  
  
"Oh, yes, that would be wonderful." She must have looked exhausted, pushing a lock of golden hair from her eyes as some sweat trickled down her temple, because one of the boys pulled a chair from the corner of the room over to her. She sat gratefully. "Thank you," she exclaimed, leaning back and putting a hand to her forehead.  
  
"No problem. What all should we serve up, Cook?"  
  
"Oh, whatever is lying around. I feel awfully guilty, just sitting here—"  
  
"Well, don't. You've done a lot for us already. Just sit back and relax, for once! We've heard that you'd work yourself to death if people didn't watch out for you."  
  
"Have you?" She didn't sound at all enthused or surprised by the comment.  
  
"Of course. Now, we'll serve some bread, and some cheese, and perhaps some apples . . ." one of the girls thought aloud.  
  
"And I'll start to pack things up!" another girl exclaimed.  
  
"And I will serve," the boy said with a wolfish grin and an elaborate bow.  
  
"And I'll sleep," Alice moaned. "Wake me when you're done!"  
  
"As the cook wishes," chirped the taller girl, stuffing several loaves of bread into a large burlap potato sack.  
  
"Bring this tray to the table, Jim," the short brunette ordered.  
  
"Yes ma'am!" He took the tray and with mock elegance brought it to the others. "Dinner is served," they heard him announce to his fellow classmates.  
  
"He's a handful," Alice muttered.  
  
"Isn't he? I wish he'd hurry, here's some water for him to carry out . . ."  
  
Alice drifted off into a troubled sleep.  
  
  
  
"I hope she's okay," Harry whispered to Ginny.  
  
"I'm sure she is, so stop worrying. Really, Harry, with the way you're worrying about her, one would think you're . . . Harry! Are you? Are you and Alice—"  
  
"Hush! Nothing's official."  
  
Her wild red hair vividly outlined her pale, pointy face, and her eyes that were sparkling with excitement. "Oh, you two would be absolutely darling together! Really, Harry, you should—"  
  
"Would you mind being quieter?" he hissed between clenched teeth. Glancing around the room to see if anyone might be listening, he muttered, "Anyway, I'm not sure she's interested in me."  
  
"How could she not be!" Ginny exclaimed, almost forgetting to keep her voice lowered. In a slightly softer voice, she whispered hoarsely, "If you're worried about her and Frank, don't. Really, Harry. They're not close like that. They're friends."  
  
"All right, all right. Let's change the subject, shall we?"  
  
It was already getting dark. There was no clock in the tower; Harry reached for his pocket watch. "Five o'clock," he muttered. "I wonder when they're returning?"  
  
"I'm not sure," she admitted. "Alice said she'd see us in the morning, most likely. But would they really spend the night out in those wretched woods? That would be insanity, Harry."  
  
"Yeah, it would, but they're worried. Dumbledore has vanished without a trace. Ron—" He cut himself off, remembering with whom he was speaking.  
  
"Continue, please." Ginny sounded slightly choked.  
  
"Well, he still hasn't shown up. And then there are all those attacks, and the . . . occurrence last night."  
  
"What did happen?"  
  
"Someone managed to get inside the castle, and then escaped through a window over fifteen feet off the ground."  
  
"Jumping dragons," she whispered incredulously. Who? Why?"  
  
"Exactly what I want to know," admitted Harry. He finished the water that remained in the cup before him. "How much more food and water do we have, Ginny?"  
  
"Not enough." She grimaced. "Two small barrels of water and a sack of stale bread and cheese. Maybe a bruised apple or two. It will hardly last us through the night."  
  
"As I'd figured. Well, I guess we'll ration it out and people can eat and drink it as they find necessary. Every little bit is precious. I hope the Slytherins are faring better."  
  
"I'm sure they're fine, with Alice in charge. Now don't worry about her anymore, Harry. Think of what's at hand."  
  
"I'll try, I'll try. How many students do we have?"  
  
"Hmm . . . I'm not sure. Shall we call a headcount, and then pass out the food?"  
  
"Yes, why don't we do that."  
  
Ginny couldn't suppress her giggle. "Sorry, I just feel like we're at a military camp or something."  
  
"Perhaps it would be better if we were." Harry was far too worried and somber to be lighthearted.  
  
"Why don't you go lie down and get some rest, Harry? I'll handle everything. You've been in charge since dawn, practically. You must be exhausted . . ."  
  
"Thanks, Ginny."  
  
"No problem," she assured him.  
  
Harry was heading toward the stairs to the boys' dormitories. "Ginny?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm glad to see you've finally grown up."  
  
Ginny sensed some truth and some humor in it. She threw it off, saying, "See, you're feeling better already. Now go, before I have to march you up there!"  
  
  
  
Alice and the Slytherins were chattering in their rather formidable common room. Only small green lamps hanging on chains lit the roughly hewn stone walls and ceiling. Sitting in the high-backed black chairs before the fireplace, the group was swapping stories and the like.  
  
"I'm glad there were no classes," a very delicate looking girl with black curls admitted.  
  
"Well, aren't we all, in a way?" Alice kindly interjected. Everyone turned to stare at her as though she were crazy.  
  
"Teaching's fun," she continued, "but grading assignments is not. And taking care of trouble makers and the like is not a pleasurable task, either."  
  
"Then why are you teaching?"  
  
"To be around people like you, of course," she replied with a slight smile. "Anyway . . . not to change the topic or anything, but what shall we do now?"  
  
"We don't know," they all mumbled together.  
  
"Hmm . . . well, it's already eleven, isn't it? I don't think the staff plans on coming back tonight. Why don't we retire?"  
  
"Sounds good." The students were far more tired than they would let their teacher know.  
  
"Well, g'night all. Sleep well. If they come back, I'll be sure to awaken you all."  
  
"Yes, do that." They were already heading up the stairs to their dormitories.  
  
Alice sat in one of the armchairs, sighing as she took off her black slippers with their gold embroidery. Her feet ached after trying to keep watch over the students all day long. She leaned back, stretched her arms, and propped her feet up on the nearest chair.  
  
"All I need is some rest," she told herself. "It's been a long day . . ."  
  
All I need is Harry, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.  
  
  
  
Alice awoke to find a very tired looking McGonagall standing in front of her.  
  
Startled, she scrambled to rise to her feet. "I'm sorry, I fell asleep—"  
  
"It's fine, it's fine." McGonagall sat down in the chair next to Alice's. Alice slowly relaxed back into her armchair.  
  
"So . . ."  
  
"Well, as you probably already know, Dumbledore has vanished without a trace, as has Ron. Also, the other victims of the Voldemort attacks are . . . gone. They've disappeared and we don't know where to begin looking. Meanwhile, we're going to need a person sit in for Dumbledore, and I'm going to take the job. We don't think classes are necessary at a time like this. Instead, we wish to teach the importance of defending yourself against the Dark Arts. Of course, you and Harry are our expert residents on the topic. So we'd want each of you to teach two Houses." She looked her over. "Oh, yes . . . Snape is back, so you can go back to Gryffindor now. Somehow he and the other head of house forgot their duties here . . . go on, I'll talk to you later. Today, we rest."  
  
"All right. Sweet dreams." Alice left the room and wandered down the hallway, weaving through corridors and hallways to get back to Gryffindor Tower. To get back to her students. To get back to Harry. 


	9. Confusing Complications

Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball  
  
by Hannah  
  
Chapter Nine ~ Confusing Complications  
  
Harry and Alice were sitting on the window seat in Gryffindor Tower. They were both gazing out at the scenery around them, and both were thinking very different thoughts.  
  
Alice was pondering on the happenings of the past week and a half as she watched the snow swirl around outside the open casement. Ron's disappearance, Dumbledore's vanishing, and the whole concept of Voldemort regaining power. She was not comfortable with the whole situation. And classes had not been in session since the discovery of Dumbledore's disappearance. Instead, she was giving two two-hour lessons on the use of Dark Magic, in the most dire of circumstances.  
  
Meanwhile, Harry was thinking about Alice. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, but she was lost deep in thoughts that he would never understand. That was the one thing that was so unnerving about her: he always felt that he was inferior to her in some way. She knew so many things that he would never even dream of knowing. But she was so perfect . . . so kind, smart, witty, and generous. Not to mention beautiful. He gazed at her long golden curls and perfectly milky complexion. And her incredibly unique eyes! The way the gold in them caught the sunlight . . .  
  
He fumbled blindly for her hand, and upon finding it took it into his own. It was, as usual, quite chilled.  
  
She sighed deeply, shuddering slightly. "I'm so sick of Voldemort, Harry."  
  
"Yes, well, aren't we all?"  
  
"Most of us. Except for those who work for him." She made a face of disdain. "I only wish that something could make him become good once again. That would be so wonderful . . ."  
  
Harry nodded his agreement. The little sunlight that there was streamed onto his face. "I feel at times like all I want to do is crush him. He killed my parents, he's hurt my friends, and God only knows how many times he's tried to kill me."  
  
She was silent.  
  
"Anyway," he continued, "at times he just seems so human . . . and I don't feel that it's fair to battle him at all. Does that make any sense?"  
  
"Does anything?" she replied blandly.  
  
"I suppose you're right," he admitted. "As usual." Grinning wickedly, he escaped a playful swat from Alice.  
  
"Really," she groaned. "I've had enough of all this nonsense!"  
  
Glancing down at his pocket watch, Harry heaved a sigh. "Time for the evil lessons."  
  
"God, that is so unnecessary," she complained, leaning her head upon his shoulder. "As though any of the first years will be able to control any of the spells we teach them. And even the seventh years are having difficulty. Such spells are dangerous in young minds. They could turn the students against us."  
  
"I agree wholeheartedly," Harry replied, feeling rather nauseous. He hadn't really thought about any of the things Alice had just said. "So why in the name of Gryffindor are we teaching the students Dark Magic?"  
  
"Because that's what the Ministry of Magic wants, and we have to follow their orders." Alice grimaced. "Well, let's go."  
  
They walked down the corridors hand in hand, still deep in debate over the issue at hand.  
  
Once they were within a few feet of the entrance door (the lessons were to be taught outdoors), they unclasped their hands. Harry pushed open the heavy door and held it with quivering arms as Alice strode outside. He released the heavy door immediately and walked through himself, his arms aching. The snow lay in drifts outside the door; the students were wrapped heavily in warm clothing to protect against chill.  
  
Meanwhile, Alice wore only her usual silk garment. She didn't look cold, but Harry knew that she was always rather chilled. The extra cold probably wouldn't bother her a bit. Meanwhile, Harry felt half frozen already.  
  
"Ravenclaw today? That's good, you're supposed to be the wise ones." She walked over to the students, arms folded across her chest.  
  
Harry also made his way toward them. "Wands, everyone? Good. We have extras, if they're needed."  
  
One small boy in the very back of the crowd of students meekly raised a hand. Harry tossed him a very battered wand made of pine; the boy missed the catch and it fell into the snow.  
  
Harry had a slight memory of a wand that was scalding-hot . . . but he tossed it aside. The lesson was about to begin, and that meant that he would need to focus. After all, he was one of the professors.  
  
"Okay, yesterday we learned how to throw fire. Who would like to refresh our memories on the subject?"  
  
A blonde boy was waving his hand wildly in the air.  
  
"Yes, you," Harry said dully, pointing his wand at the first year.  
  
"You shout . . ."  
  
It was dull. That's all there was to it. Harry practically fell asleep during the lengthy class session. Alice would have, but she was the one in charge, more or less, and therefore had to be exasperatingly patient with students who had no idea as to what they were learning.  
  
After they had sent the students inside, Alice lost some of her composure.  
  
"Dammit! How can they expect us to teach a passel of children to perform the most dangerous spells in existence? I'm sure even Voldemort doesn't understand how to use all of them!"  
  
"True, but the Ministry always thinks it is correct." Harry was mulling over that memory of the wand. For some inexplicable reason, the thought really grated on his nerves. He timidly added, "Also . . . I was thinking today, and . . . well, remember that—that wand? The one I showed you the day of the duel?"  
  
She looked at him quizzically. "Yes, why?"  
  
"Well, I was just wondering what we should do with it. Should we show it to the Ministry? Who? What?"  
  
"I don't think we should do anything with it just yet."  
  
"But it's been weeks since we found it!"  
  
"Yes, but we don't want mass panic. Remember: very few people know of the whole Voldemort-is-striking-people-down-oh-my-God thing either. So let's just keep our cool, shall we?"  
  
"Fine, fine," Harry muttered miserably.  
  
"Good. Let's go inside then, shall we? I'm freezing."  
  
"Tell me something I don't know," Harry replied with a smile.  
  
He took her frozen hand in his own, wincing at how cold it was. Together, they walked into the castle.  
  
  
  
Harry sat close to Alice at the Gryffindor table that evening. He had the oddest feeling deep in his gut that something was severely wrong. Making sure that she was well guarded was the least he could do.  
  
She did look unusually pale. It might have just been the fact that she wasn't wearing her usual garb tonight. Perhaps that was one reason that Harry felt so strange.  
  
It was indeed different to see her in a bright red sweater and a black, ankle-length skirt, with her hair tied back in a loose ponytail.  
  
Also, she was incredibly silent. Alice didn't say a word unless she was spoken to. Not unusually, she merely pushed the food around on her plate. However, she did attempt to shovel a few spoonfuls of lamb stew down her throat.  
  
Sullenly, she looked at Harry after a few moments. "I wanna go back to my room for a while, Harry."  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked with genuine concern.  
  
"Oh, just tired, that's all." It may have been well rehearsed, but it was a lie just the same.  
  
"Let me walk you over."  
  
"You need to stay with the students, don't you?" Knowing she'd been caught, the remark was somewhat heartless.  
  
"No. I'm only a year older than the seventh years, you know," Harry replied. "They can take care of themselves. And others, if need be." He stood and took Alice's arm with obvious force. As she lifted herself from the chair, she didn't fight him. On the contrary, she willingly allowed him to lead her from the room. Nobody paid them much attention.  
  
Once safely in the hallway, Harry hissed, "What's wrong with you, Alice?"  
  
"I'm feeling somewhat ill," she said. She looked it. Harry was reluctant to release her arm because she looked so dizzy. Frazzled and scared were the first two words that came to Harry's mind as he led her down the dimly lit corridor.  
  
"How so?"  
  
"I . . . oh, I'm not sure," she said with a weak shake of her head. Her response was no more than a whisper. He noticed that she was biting her inner lip, and he thought that he saw a trace of blood.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
"No," she replied with an effort.  
  
Suddenly her feet became entangled with one another. She let out a small gasp as she almost fell to the stone floor. Harry still had her firmly by the arm; he jerked her back up and kept her from falling to the ground.  
  
Her form was limp in his arms. "Not again," he muttered. Checking her pulse, Harry noted with relief that she was still alive. He didn't want to just leave her there, but he couldn't possibly heft her along as he went for help.  
  
He reluctantly leaned her against a cold stone wall. Slumping slightly toward the right, eyes squeezed tightly shut, face as white as chalk, she looked like a fresh cadaver straight from the morgue. Harry glanced over at her as he quickly made his way down the hall and back to the dining area.  
  
Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention, Harry only walked over to talk to McGonagall, Lupin, and Frank. The color drained from all three faces as he related what had happened.  
  
The four rushed out of the room and down the hallway to Alice's inanimate figure, which was now lying on the floor.  
  
"What happened?" Frank asked frantically, dropping down on one knee to check her pulse and breathing.  
  
McGonagall looked ready to go into hysterics.  
  
Harry shrugged, feeling all the more nervous with his friends' frantic responses to the situation. "I'm not exactly sure . . . she said that she was feeling ill and wanted to go to her room, and then she just tripped over and fell unconscious . . ."  
  
"I'm going to fetch Madam Pomfrey. I'll be right back," Lupin stammered.  
  
"Yes, yes . . ." Frank mused absently.  
  
Harry just stood there, somewhat shocked. What had happened?  
  
Not five minutes later, Lupin was rushing toward them with the nurse stumbling around behind him. She looked utterly winded.  
  
Leaning over the prostrate body, she carefully examined it. "Looks like a strong potion to me," she finally exclaimed, heaving herself to her feet.  
  
"But wouldn't she be able to detect—" stuttered Frank, obviously very confused.  
  
"Not if she was the one who planted it," she replied reasonably.  
  
"Are you inferring . . . suicide?" Harry suggested incredulously.  
  
"No, we're not going to jump to conclusions," was McGonagall's reasonable reply. She brushed a lock of her graying black hair from her face and adjusted her square-framed glasses. "Now let's get her into Madam Pomfrey's office. Can you help her to recover? How long will it take?"  
  
Poppy Pomfrey stood undecided for a moment or two. "Oh, a day, maybe two . . ."  
  
"All right then." Frank was silent for a moment, and then said, "Well, let's get her into the recovery room, then. Shall we?"  
  
Each person helped to lift her. With so many helping hands, it was like holding an infant. She was extremely light and very easy to carry up the five flights of stairs that it took to get to Madam Pomfrey's room.  
  
Laying her on a bed in the sick room, they stood awkwardly for a moment. Lupin and Frank took their leave, so that only Harry, Madam Pomfrey, and Professor McGonagall remained.  
  
"Do you really think it was suicide?" Harry asked in disbelief.  
  
"I, certainly, do not!" McGonagall exclaimed. "I think it was destined to happen. I'm surprised that the poor girl doesn't go crazy, with all that she has to do that she probably would much rather avoid."  
  
"Well," Madam Pomfrey said acidly, "I don't see how the poor girl could purposefully swallow poison without any qualms whatsoever."  
  
"Well, she did look somewhat worried and upset about something," Harry added helpfully.  
  
"How so?" McGonagall was all ears.  
  
"I'm not exactly sure. She was moody and sullen all evening. Awfully quiet. And she wasn't dressed in her normal attire, either. She seemed indifferent about everything. It was almost like she was forcing herself to do something that she absolutely despised doing."  
  
"Like poisoning herself!" Madam Pomfrey added pointedly.  
  
"Like allowing herself to eat poison even though she already knew it was there," McGonagall mused.  
  
"Perhaps," Harry added. He was completely clueless and confused.  
  
"Well, what do you plan on doing?" McGonagall inquired, directing the question towards Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"I think I'll give her some extract of polifinasia, to make her vomit the poisonous potion. I'm pretty sure it was Gytinner's Fluid—"  
  
"Gytinner's?" McGonagall asked in amazement. "Isn't that almost fatally strong?"  
  
"It depends on how much you ingest," Madame Pomfrey replied indifferently. "She never eats much . . . skinny as a pole . . . probably too in just enough to make her nauseous and pass out. She'll be fine in a few days," she assured them.  
  
"So is that all you can do?"  
  
"Bed rest, of course," she added. "Plenty of it. And few visitors!"  
  
Harry hid a smirk. Wasn't that just like Madam Pomfrey? She hadn't changed a bit.  
  
"Well, we'll let you get to business," McGonagall asserted. She led Harry from the room.  
  
"Will you be all right, Harry?" She was genuinely concerned.  
  
"Yeah, yeah: fine." Harry was just numb for now.  
  
"Just tell me if you need anything. And don't worry: I'll make sure that Madam Pomfrey let's you visit."  
  
Harry allowed a ghost of a smile. "Thanks."  
  
"No problem," she said sincerely. "Now you go rest. I'll take care of Gryffindor."  
  
Harry was too exhausted to express his gratitude.  
  
  
  
It wasn't until the next morning that reality hit Harry full-force.  
  
Rolling over in his bed to keep the sun from shining in his eyes, Harry groggily awoke. Sunlight was streaming through the window in his room. Gray sheets tangled from a restless night's sleep, he found himself attempting to untwist from them.  
  
The first thought that came to his mind was Alice. She wasn't going to be there today. She'd be lying in the sickroom, probably doubled over in pain.  
  
He tried to shake the thought, but it just wasn't possible.  
  
Sighing deeply, he threw on a black robe that was lying in a heap on the floor of his bedroom.  
  
Suddenly, a sickening thought hit him. I'm going to have to teach the Dark Arts class myself today.  
  
Of course, he knew he could do it. After all, hadn't he defeated Voldemort all those times? But Alice was omnipotent, while Harry was far from it.  
  
Perhaps I can ask Lupin . . . Remus . . . to help me, he decided.  
  
Tugging the swollen door open (it was very damp inside Harry's portion of the castle), Harry stepped out into the hall to run into none other than Emily Rightsee.  
  
She looked slightly startled at first, but then she smiled broadly. "Harry," she oozed, "it's so nice to see you again. I'm so sorry about Alice."  
  
Harry had to swallow his anger. "Yes, well . . . thank you."  
  
"So, Harry, are you two the newest item?" Her eyes were unreadable.  
  
Harry flinched. "I guess. I'm not really sure." He frowned thoughtfully. "But I have to go, all right? I suppose I'll talk to you later."  
  
"Yes, of course, whatever you want, Harry." He thought he detected a hint of mockery in her voice, but he couldn't be certain. She was gone before he could say anything else to her.  
  
"Fine, if she wants to be that way," Harry muttered to himself as he walked purposefully to the infirmary.  
  
Knocking heavily upon the wooden door, Harry waited anxiously for someone to answer. He heard someone unclasp a latch and open the door very slowly.  
  
Madam Pomfrey, a very sleepy Madam Pomfrey, greeted him sullenly. "Minerva said I just had to let you see her," she grumbled crossly. "Well, I suppose I have to follow her orders. She is headmistress now."  
  
She led Harry through the dimly lit room to a bed in the far corner. A rather tousled Alice smiled weakly at him as he drew up a battered, ancient wooden chair and sat.  
  
He looked her over very carefully, and she grasped his hand in hers.  
  
"I'll leave you two alone," Madam Pomfrey exclaimed grudgingly. "For a while," she added severely.  
  
Harry tried to hide a smile. "Thank you, Poppy."  
  
"Sure, sure," she mumbled, bustling out of the room and closing the door behind her.  
  
As soon as they were alone, Harry glared at her sharply. "You don't look so good, Alice."  
  
"No, I'm fine," Alice protested, raising herself onto one elbow and then leaning against the headboard. She closed her eyes and put a hand to her head. "Somewhat dizzy," she admitted.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Tossing her hair, she exclaimed, "Don't be so concerned!"  
  
"Easy for you to say," Harry mumbled.  
  
Her voice softened. "Harry, really, I can look after myself. I'm not helpless. I may have many obstacles stacked before me, but I have a lot of knowledge as well. I am a self-sufficient person."  
  
"Are you?" Harry's voice was ominously soft.  
  
"More so than you." It wasn't much more than a whisper. "There are many things that you choose to keep secret about your life, Harry. And I can see them all. I know your fears, your thoughts, your desires." Harry blushed; she continued. "You can't fool me like others, Harry."  
  
"Wonderful," Harry moaned, grimacing slightly.  
  
Alice smiled. "Oh, don't be such a softie," she teased.  
  
"Would you want me any other way?"  
  
"Probably not." Her eyes were laughing. "And that's a compliment," she added, "seeing as I know the thoughts and substance of every man that has lived, is living, or will ever exist."  
  
Harry thought this over. "So confusing," he said at last, shaking his head.  
  
"Isn't it though?" She seemed very cheery.  
  
"But you were still poisoned last night," Harry added. "And you know who it was. You're deliberately hiding it from me."  
  
"And why should I raise red flags were there is no need?" She looked more severe now. "Really, let me be my own judge, Harry."  
  
"Fine, fine," he said, relenting.  
  
Heaving a deep sigh, Alice plucked at a small ball of lint on the woolen blanket that covered her. "Anyway . . ."  
  
"Yes?" Harry prompted.  
  
"I dunno," she laughed, "I was hoping you would say something."  
  
He smiled. "I'm quite speechless."  
  
"I don't know what to say," she repeated pleadingly.  
  
"Then don't say anything at all," Harry whispered, leaning closer.  
  
He saw her close her eyes for a moment, but then opened them again. She reached up to gently remove his glasses, which she placed on a stained bedside table. His lips touched hers—  
  
And she drew away. "She's coming," Alice mouthed, and Harry turned a deep shade of red. Reaching for his glasses with quicksilver speed, Madam Pomfrey strutted into the room.  
  
She found a very pale Alice picking at the lint on her blanket, and a very red-faced Harry adjusting his glasses. Looking severely at both, she said, "Just checking on you two. I'll be back in a few minutes."  
  
Once again, she slammed the door behind her as she left the dank room.  
  
"That was close," Harry muttered when he thought it was safe.  
  
"Sure was," Alice replied. She was still awfully pale.  
  
"Want to try again?"  
  
"Not right now," she admitted. "But I should be free of this prison by this evening, if you want to—"  
  
"Yes?" Harry was smiling.  
  
"Well, where's somewhere we can meet, where none of our students would see us together? It wouldn't be a good idea to reveal any relationship between us, yet."  
  
"True. How about an office," was Harry's immediate response.  
  
She looked thoughtful. "All right. Mine. Seven o'clock."  
  
Doubtful, Harry considered this. "I suppose. But you have always told your students that they can come to your office for help."  
  
"There haven't been any lessons recently." Her head was lowered; he couldn't see the expression on her face.  
  
"True," he mused to himself. "But still—"  
  
"Really, Harry! All we want is a harmless chat and a bottle of wine, perhaps. If you'd feel better, bring the invisibility cloak here at five, when I'm to be discharged, and we can hide under it. How's that?"  
  
"Sounds good to me."  
  
"Fine. Five o'clock, here." She gazed upward in thought. "But wait . . . what are you going to tell the students?"  
  
"I'll figure out something," Harry assured her, although he knew that she knew exactly what was to be done.  
  
"Tell them that you have work to do in your office, and that you aren't to be disturbed."  
  
"Fine. Okay," Harry replied.  
  
"All right. Five." Alice smiled slightly.  
  
Harry stood and leaned over her, giving her a brief kiss on the forehead. "Get well, all right?"  
  
She looped her arms around his shoulders. "Don't worry about me Harry. Honestly!"  
  
Smiling, he untangled himself from her arms and exited the room.  
  
  
  
Harry stood at the infirmary's door at five o'clock. A few minutes later, Madam Pomfrey opened the door and Alice stepped out, looking completely fresh. She smiled at him once Madam Pomfrey had gone back into the sickroom and closed the door.  
  
"Invisibility cloak?" she asked. Her voice echoed in the marble- floored hall.  
  
"Yes. Right here." He drew out a silvery, shimmering cloak large enough for two or three people.  
  
"All right. Let's go."  
  
Harry drew the cloak over the both of them as they headed toward Alice's office. They tried to soften the sharp sounds that their shoes made upon the floors.  
  
Finally, they reached her door. She took a key from a pocket in her gown and carefully unlocked the door to the room.  
  
Stepping inside, Harry immediately removed the cloak from their heads. He took off his glasses and set them on her desk. He then began to kiss her.  
  
"Harry!" she gasped between kisses. "Goodness. Isn't this going rather quickly?"  
  
"No. At least, I don't think so." He kissed her again.  
  
"I give up!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him in return.  
  
He pressed her against the black wall, his mouth still upon hers. He drew away and looked into her face. His hungry eyes saw such emotion that he kissed her again.  
  
There was a small gasp from the hallway. Harry turned abruptly to find the small, intent face of a fifth year peering into the office. Her hazel eyes were like saucers.  
  
Harry, confused by the horrified look in her eyes, glanced downwards. He then realized that the invisibility cloak still partially enveloped them both; It looked like the heads of Alice and Harry, as well as her hands around his neck.  
  
"Please, don't be alarmed," Harry stammered. Instantly removing the rest of the cloak, he saw a hint of relief in the pale child's face. "It's just an invisibility cloak. Really, you can try it . . ."  
  
She shook her blonde head stubbornly and fled the room.  
  
"Damn," he muttered. He then turned accusingly to Alice. "You knew this was going to happen," he said sternly.  
  
She shrugged. "All the world is a stage, Harry. What can I tell you? I am the only great actress you will ever know. I know all the lines. I know when I will die, when you will die, who my husband is to be . . . all I need is to rehearse the lines."  
  
"Do you love me?" His voice cracked a bit. He sat down on her desk. This was so utterly confusing!  
  
"Don't you ever question that," she scolded, sitting beside him and stroking his hair.  
  
"But you just said—"  
  
"It doesn't mean that I don't love you," she corrected. "It doesn't mean I don't hate Snape, or that I'm not very close friends with Frank and Lupin, or that that Emily—" She stopped abruptly, and then continued. "It merely means that I know everything that will happen between all of us. That's all."  
  
"Well then, in that case . . ." Harry smiled as he encircled her waist and kissed her again. "I love you, too. And I'm not scared to say it anymore."  
  
"Good." She too smiled as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm glad it's this way."  
  
"Me too," Harry whispered. "Me too."  
  
  
  
Harry sat alone in the Gryffindor common room. He was exhausted, but couldn't seem to sleep. Every time he came close to dozing off, he would suddenly remember that little blonde head poking through the door and gawking at Alice and him. What would become of the whole situation?  
  
Usually, teacher romance was no huge event. Sure, the couple would receive a few sideways glances and giggles, but other than that, they were ignored. But Alice and him—  
  
That was different. Two of the most famous wizards in the entire world, dating? That would be sure to raise eyebrows!  
  
But for some reason, he didn't care as much as he should. For Harry knew that, if he indeed loved Alice, nothing could possibly come between them. And he was certain that he would let nothing get in the way of their blossoming relationship. Nothing.  
  
The fire was a mere rosy glow in the grate by the time the winds began. They howled as they whistled through the chinks between bricks and screeched through the open window. Harry stood to close the window, and found himself nearly blown over by the force of the air that pummeled his face.  
  
"Damn, what's going on?"  
  
Harry turned to see a very sleepy-eyed sixth year boy standing in the doorway between the common room and the dormitories.  
  
"I'm not sure—hey, give me a hand with this window, will you?" he replied.  
  
"Yeah, no problem," the curly haired boy responded. He seemed more alert now; at least he wasn't rubbing his eyes and yawning anymore.  
  
"What's your name, anyway?" Harry asked the student.  
  
"My name's Roy. I'm actually a new student; I just got transferred from a school back in America."  
  
"Oh, well, that's nice," Harry stammered as he and the boy managed to latch the casement in place. "Miss Oak, one of the teachers, is from America. I, myself, have never been. But it always has sounded like lots of fun."  
  
The boy shrugged. "Yeah, well, for me, England always sounded like a great time. I suppose it always depends upon where you're from."  
  
"Wise words for a youngster," Harry commented. He looked the boy over more carefully.  
  
He was wearing a worn pair of striped pajamas patterned in very faded blue and white. His brown locks were tangled and unruly, probably from tossing in bed for an hour or two. Deeply set hazel eyes were prominent in his thick olive face. He wasn't of slight build. On the contrary, he was quite tall and somewhat heavy, but he appeared to be mostly muscle. Harry could detect a dimple in his left cheek.  
  
"Anyway, I suppose I ought to be heading back for bed." The boy released another loud yawn.  
  
"Stop that," Harry teased. "You're making me tired, too."  
  
"Why weren't you asleep, anyway?" the boy inquired.  
  
"I'm not sure . . ." Harry fibbed. He knew that he had much more on his mind than he could handle at the moment, but he wasn't about to tell that to this new student who he'd never met before.  
  
"Well, try warm milk. That always helped me when I was little. G'night!" The boy headed up the stairs to the boys' side of the dormitory.  
  
"G'night," Harry replied. He found himself yawning. Time to turn in.  
  
As he turned to face the doorway to Gryffindor Tower, he couldn't suppress a gasp of fear.  
  
The portrait hole was open, and a pale, silvery mist filled the gap.  
  
Harry reached within his robes and fumbled for his wand. His hands finally closing around it, he grasped a spell from deep within himself. "Grokminiclus!" he shouted. Alice had taught him the spell; it would give knowledge of anything which you requested. As newfound knowledge seeped into Harry's mind, his face slowly bleached to a shade of white. "Oh my God," he muttered, collapsing into a chair and allowing his head to sink into his hands. He looked toward the window, and found the same film to cover it.  
  
Harry and his students were trapped within Gryffindor Tower, with no form of escape. 


	10. Missions

Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball  
  
by Hannah  
  
Chapter Ten ~ Missions  
  
"Harry? Harry!"  
  
Awakening to someone shouting his name and beating on the portrait, which had blown shut during the night, Harry found that he had fallen asleep in one of the large armchairs. The fire had reduced to ashes during the night. Suddenly, the room felt extremely cold as he remembered his situation.  
  
"Harry! Are you in there?"  
  
He recognized the voice as Alice's and immediately crawled to the portrait hole. "Alice!" he exclaimed hoarsely, "we're trapped."  
  
"I know," she grumbled. "And I have bad news."  
  
"What might that be?"  
  
"There is no known spell to open a sealing charm."  
  
A deathly silence prevailed for a few moments. "None?"  
  
"No, not yet," she hesitantly replied. "I'm sorry. But—but I'll try to figure out something. Combine a few spells, perhaps."  
  
"Yeah, all right," he chattered miserably. "But we don't have any food, and only bathroom tap water, and we're out of coal for the fireplace," he added, looked at the pitiful ashes in the grate.  
  
"Um, okay, just a second . . ."  
  
Harry was quiet for a moment. He knew that she probably wanted to concentrate.  
  
"Okay, turn around," she tittered triumphantly.  
  
Harry turned and gasped when he saw a small mountain of various provisions. He saw various foods, mostly canned, some small kegs of water, charcoal for the fireplace.  
  
"Thanks," Harry stuttered.  
  
"No problem. Hey, I'm going to head off to my room and work on combining spells, all right? Don't let anyone panic or anything, and don't you worry yourself too much either, okay? Love you lots!"  
  
"And I you," Harry replied with zeal. He heard the faint sound of Alice's shoes as she slowly walked away from the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
"Hmm," he mused. "What to do now . . ."  
  
Frowning in deep thought, Harry remembered that boy from yesterday. He didn't remember seeing him before . . .  
  
He stormed up the stairs to the boys' dorm and knocked on one of the doors.  
  
A very sleepy-eyed black-haired boy opened it, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Is there a boy named Roy in this house, a recent transfer from the States?"  
  
"Not that I know of, Professor Potter," he replied, obviously bewildered. "I can ask the others—"  
  
"No, no," Harry interrupted, "that's good enough. Get some more sleep; we'll be here for a while."  
  
He headed back down the stairs once the boy had closed the door. So someone had been in Gryffindor Tower . . . someone who shouldn't have been there . . .  
  
"Harry?" Someone else was now at the portrait hole. The muffled voice sounded very close to that of McGonagall.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How are you faring? I heard Alice made some food Apparate." Harry had to strain to hear her voice through the glowing barrier between them.  
  
"Yes, she did. We should be fine. The students aren't about yet."  
  
"Well, that's good. The longer they stay sleeping, the less they can worry."  
  
"My philosophy exactly." Harry paused for a moment, and then ventured, "Alice? She's working on a spell?"  
  
"Yes, but you know how it will work out, Harry. Either she already knew a spell and it was Fate that she hide it for a specified period of time, or that there is no spell and . . . well, let's not think of that option, shall we?"  
  
Harry's heart sunk. Of course, Professor McGonagall was right. Alice would either know that there was a spell, or that there wasn't. She was now just biding time. He remembered what she'd told him: "All the world's a stage, Harry. What can I tell you? I am the only great actress you will ever know." Was this just another act in this great play called life?  
  
He realized she was talking to him.  
  
"Harry, did you hear what I said?"  
  
"Hmm, no," Harry mused half-heartedly.  
  
"How much longer until you'll need more supplies?"  
  
Turning to glance at the large pile of food, he said, "Well, I'd say it will last us a day and a half. I hope we're not stuck here that long, though."  
  
"You won't be." McGonagall's voice sounded less than assuring. "Harry?" she ventured apprehensively.  
  
"Hmm?" Harry murmured absently.  
  
"Just don't panic, all right? I'm sure Alice knows what she's doing. I would place my life in her hands."  
  
"That's saying a lot," Harry replied as an attempt at humor.  
  
"Seriously, Harry . . . I know how close the two of you are, and I really think that she'll do just about anything to save you. As a matter of fact, I'm sure of it. Just don't lose hope."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"We'll be back in a day and a half, if Alice hasn't cracked the spell, for an extra supply package."  
  
"All right. Keep the school running while we're detached, all right?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
She was gone.  
  
  
  
Chaos had reigned in Gryffindor Tower when the students discovered their plight.  
  
Harry had asked Ginny to help him keep control of the students. Without the gentle hand of Alice, things didn't run quite as smoothly. Even so, the students did listen to the famous Harry Potter.  
  
Two days had passed since Harry had awoken the first day of their entrapment. Alice had made more food materialize the previous evening. "I'm close," she assured Harry. "Another day or two."  
  
He was hoping she was right. He was sick of having to wear the same clothes again and again. The students were bored and beginning to fight with one another. And he was beginning to lose faith, which McGonagall had severely warned him against.  
  
Harry had produced a sleeping bag with a spell, and he slept in the common room. Meanwhile, Ginny slept on the landing between the two rows of dormitories, in case of an emergency.  
  
All Harry wanted was Alice. He was sure that she could keep everything straight. She had the magical touch of infinite knowledge, and she was the best comforter that Harry had ever met.  
  
"Damn damn damn," he muttered crossly to himself. The other students were not yet awake, and he could hear Ginny's soft snoring from the landing nearby.  
  
Ginny stirred and stretched. She must have opened her eyes because just then, she gave a piercing shriek.  
  
"Harry, come here this instant!"  
  
He stumbled out of the sleeping bag and into the frame of the doorway. He saw Ginny trying to clamber gracelessly to her feet as she stared at small pink barriers that illuminated every doorway up and down the halls.  
  
"Oh my God," he muttered.  
  
"You're telling me!" Ginny stormed. "What are we going to do? They'll need water . . . and privies . . . and food . . . and heaven only knows what else!"  
  
"Well, they each have some water and food, I made sure of that," Harry muttered.  
  
"Well thank God!" Ginny exclaimed.  
  
"And I'm sure they can find something to serve as a toilet temporarily . . ."  
  
Ginny wrinkled her freckled nose in disgust.  
  
"And until then, there's nothing we can do." Harry felt utterly helpless.  
  
"All right. Well, I'm going to . . . I don't know, but I'll find something to do," Ginny whined. "Or else I'll go absolutely nuts!"  
  
"Oh Alice, please hurry," Harry uttered under his breath as he scurried back down to the common room.  
  
  
  
Harry must have fallen asleep again, because he awoke an hour or so later to muffled screams from the dormitory rooms.  
  
So they're awake, he thought to himself. Oh Alice! Do hurry!  
  
As though in answer to his prayer, Harry heard rushed footsteps from outside the portrait hole, and then an excited voice exclaiming, "Harry! Oh, Harry, I believe I have the very spell!"  
  
"Alice!" he cried, leaping to his feet and rushing to the pink barrier. "Please, please hurry!"  
  
"All right," she replied. "And your students, their rooms . . .?"  
  
"All closed with barriers," Harry responded quickly. "Is it a dreadfully long spell?"  
  
"Not at all!" she squealed joyfully.  
  
He couldn't hear her saying anything, but within minutes the glowing pink barricade was disintegrating.  
  
Swinging widely open, the portrait hole revealed a beaming Alice standing in the hallway.  
  
And she looked awful.  
  
She had enormous bags under her eyes, as thought she hadn't slept the whole time. She probably hasn't, Harry noted with grimness. Her hair was disheveled, her dark purple dress was terribly wrinkled, and her skin looked more bleached than ever.  
  
But somehow she managed to bound through the portrait hole and wrap her arms around him.  
  
"Oh Harry," she whispered in his ear as he embraced her, "I'm so glad you're alright."  
  
"And I you," he replied softly, "though you don't look it."  
  
He lifted her off her feet and spun her around like a small child. She squealed in delight as he set her down and gently kissed her.  
  
"The children," she managed to gasp.  
  
"Oh, right, better free them. They must be frantic by now."  
  
Alice glided to the stairs, Harry loping behind her. The found Ginny shouting through a pink-glowing doorway, trying to comfort those inside.  
  
"Hush, don't cry," she soothed. "Everything will be fine. I'm—" She cut herself off and glanced at the stairway. Tears of joy sprung to her eyes as she managed to choke, "Alice, thank God!"  
  
She smiled and put her arms around Ron's younger sister. "Don't fret, all will be well in a matter of minutes."  
  
Rushing to her task, Alice proved correct. She gave both Harry and Ginny a quick lesson with the performing of the spell, and within a half- hour, all the students were free.  
  
Harry went to see Professor McGonagall first.  
  
She threw her arms around Harry, just as Alice had done. "Oh, I'm so glad you're all fine!" she managed to sob. Once she had gained control of herself, she scrutinized him. "You look awful," she said bluntly.  
  
Harry hadn't even bothered to look in a mirror, but upon doing so found that he looked just as awful as Alice had. His hair was standing at odd angles all over his head, his clothes were terribly wrinkled, his glasses askew. "Damn, awful is an understatement," he laughed.  
  
Smiling, she asked him if the students were fine.  
  
"Yes, yes, rather startled, I'm afraid, but otherwise just fine."  
  
"Oh good," she replied, relief evident in her voice. "I'm worried about lessons, you know. It's been nearly a month since we've had any. The students are falling dreadfully behind."  
  
"Yes," Harry mumbled absently. A thought hit him rather suddenly. "How are those victims? The ones that Voldemort hit—"  
  
He cut himself off when he saw McGonagall's face fall. "No different, I'm afraid. Most have been chained to beds in the quarters of the Ministry. They are constantly muttering of going off to see their master. Food and drink must be forced down their throats." As though reading Harry's mind, she added gently, "You don't want to see her, Harry. It nearly broke Ron's heart when he went to visit."  
  
He gulped down his fear and said forcefully, "No, I do."  
  
She sighed. "Later, Harry. Later."  
  
He knew there was no arguing with the headmistress of the castle.  
  
"I think I ought to leave," he managed to say. "I need to check on the students."  
  
"I understand." Although her face was hidden from view, Harry knew she was crying. He couldn't bring himself to stay any longer. There was still no word of Dumbledore.  
  
  
  
"Alice, I'm going to go and see Hermione, whether you come along or not. Now are you coming?"  
  
Harry had been arguing with her for the past half-hour over the matter. Exasperated over the matter, Harry had lost what cool he still possessed after the past few strenuous weeks.  
  
"Harry, I can't come. I would, but I have to go somewhere, too."  
  
"Where?" He looked at her in bewilderment. Why hadn't she just said so before?  
  
"The Ministry doesn't want me talking about it," she said as she heaved a sigh. "All I can say is that I must leave tonight, that McGonagall knows, and that I will be gone for several days."  
  
Harry looked deep into her eyes, but was astounded to find them void of any emotion whatsoever. Her face looked very resolute. "Fine, fine. I'm leaving tonight."  
  
"Very well," she replied, rising off of his bed where she had seated herself. "I'm going to go pack."  
  
"Is that all the goodbye I get?" Harry asked incredulously.  
  
"Why ever would you ask that?" she asked mischievously.  
  
"Because of this!" Harry cried, flinging his arms about her and giving her a kiss. "I'll miss you. Hurry back, will you?"  
  
"For you, I suppose," she mused. "Now take your arms off of me. I must leave immediately!"  
  
Harry stood back as Alice mumbled something and waved her wand in front of her. She was now wearing her normal wizarding garb. Another spell and a heavy trunk was weighing her down.  
  
"Toodles," she exclaimed, and with one final chant disappeared from the room.  
  
She never ceased to amaze him. But now it was time for Harry to prepare for his own secret visit to his long-time friend, Hermione.  
  
  
  
It was black as pitch outside of the Ministry building. Harry hid behind a marble column, trying to decide on his move.  
  
After a long inner debate, Harry decided that his only choice was to ask to see her. He was almost certain Sirius had told him that Seers and other very powerful wizards were constantly kept on guard for intruders. If anyone learned that he was sneaking into the building, he wouldn't stand a chance. He would probably be sublimated before he knew what had hit him.  
  
Strolling up to the large wooden double doors, Harry rapped three times with the heavy golden knocker. Someone lifted the mail flap and a muffled voice said, "Harry Potter? Come in; we knew you were coming."  
  
Without questioning the speaker, Harry stepped into the door, which had been opened without noise. A small wrinkled old man stood before him.  
  
"You're sure you don't wish to turn back? This is your last chance."  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure," Harry said with much less conviction than when he had first headed out.  
  
The man beckoned for Harry to follow him down the long marble hallway. It wasn't lit; the only light was dim glow from an old gas lamp that the stooped guard carried.  
  
Harry was led past numerous doorways before finally reaching a burnished walnut door set deep within the walls.  
  
The man fumbled at his side for a moment, finally producing a ring of keys that Harry hadn't noticed, and certainly hadn't heard clinking, on his way down the hallway.  
  
Muttering some obscure spell, the man inserted a rusted and very non- extraordinary looking key into the lock. With much grating, the tumblers clicked into place and the door begrudgingly swung open.  
  
Harry swallowed as he was led into a narrow, dark room with beds lining the far wall. "He's here," the man said quietly.  
  
"Who's here?" Harry questioned.  
  
"Ron. So is Dumbledore."  
  
"God . . ." Harry ran his fingers through his thick and unruly dark hair.  
  
"Here, the three of them are together. But they won't recognize you." The man's eyes were emotionless as he pointed to the beds on the far right of the room.  
  
Harry wandered in that direction, trying to force his eyes to focus in the blackness of the room. What kind of place was this? As his eyes began to adjust, he could see the forms of people lying, mostly prone, upon the beds, manacled with long chains that were hooked into the walls and the floor.  
  
Upon reaching the wall, Harry turned to face the three beds closest to it. He was shocked and hurt by what he saw.  
  
His three friends lay, very disheveled, upon the beds, bolted to them with very long chains. Hermione was thrashing about.  
  
Harry ran over to the bedside. "Hermione! It's me, Harry. Please, Hermione . . ."  
  
She looked up into his face, her eyes lit by a mad glow. Her tangled auburn hair added to her crazy appearance. "Harry? As in, Harry Potter?" she asked in a raspy voice not at all her own. "You're the one he wants killed . . . if you don't leave me be, maybe I'll be forced to do so myself."  
  
"Hermione, please—" Harry reached out to hold her hand, but she drew it away as best she could and gnashed her teeth at him.  
  
"Keep your distance, you beast!" she screamed in rage.  
  
Tears streaming down his cheeks, Harry turned away. He could stand to see no more. He didn't dare try to awaken Dumbledore or Ron, scared to see what would have become of them.  
  
"Dear God, get us out of this mess." Harry ambled back down the long corridor (that's really all it was), thanked the guard who had admitted him, and then mounted his broomstick and flew off into the night.  
  
  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I should be back within a few days' time. Don't worry much about me; the mission is simple and under control, although very dangerous. I cannot say more, but you may wish to check the newspapers from the magical community. I'm sure they will keep you up to date.  
  
I told you that you oughtn't to have gone! But what's the use of 'told-you- so's?'  
  
I left you my crystal ball necklace. You wouldn't know how it functions, but if anything is askew you will know, I assure you. Just do be careful, Harry! Your situation is almost as sticky as mine.  
  
I love you bunches, hope all is well, and will see you within the week. Best of luck to you, Harry.  
  
Alice  
  
As Harry finished reading the letter that Alice had left in his room, he picked up the necklace, which sat on his dresser beside the note. He admired the fine golden chain and the swirling mists within it. She had turned them red somehow.  
  
"I wonder what she meant, I'd know how to work it . . ." he thought aloud.  
  
Peering intently into its depths, Harry was shocked to see a large, cat- like eye staring back at him from deep within the murky interior of the crystal. He dropped it, but it did not shatter. Shaking slightly, he bent to retrieve it. What had just happened?  
  
I'm just tired, he told himself. That's all. I'm starting to see things. Jumping dragons, I need to sleep! That's all. In the morning, everything will be fine.  
  
Harry crawled into bed, clutching the necklace close.  
  
  
  
Harry awoke in the morning to find the sun streaming through his window, illuminating Hedwig, who was perched on the sill.  
  
"Hedwig," he murmured, "what have you brought me?"  
  
She flew over to where he was sitting in bed and dropped a newspaper into his lap. She then flew out the window.  
  
"Fine, be that way," Harry shouted after her.  
  
Shaking the newspaper open, Harry's eyes strayed to the headline on the front page.  
  
1.1  
  
1.2 MYSTERIOUS ATTACK ON GERMAN CITIES LEAVE MINISTRY STUNNED  
  
1.3 Frowning, Harry skimmed the article. His heart skipped a beat when he read the passage. He read a paragraph aloud to himself, just to make sure it was real.  
  
  
  
1.4  
  
1.5 "Famed sorceress Alice Oak of the States has arrived on scene and is currently trying to keep the assaults under control. 'It's a cat,' she told reporters today. 'A leopard, I believe. It appears to be possessed by something. Perhaps Voldemort.' She has promised to keep us updated."  
  
1.6  
  
1.7 "Jumping dragons," Harry moaned. He turned back over in bed, not ready to face the new day. He just hoped that Alice would be all right. 


	11. Startling Truths

1.1 Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball  
  
by Hannah  
  
1.2 Chapter Eleven ~ Startling Truths  
  
"So moody . . ." Frank gave Harry a playful shove as he lowered himself into a chair at the dining table.  
  
Harry sat passively looking at his heaping breakfast plate, not moving to touch a thing. "Did you read the newspaper this morning?" he asked tiredly.  
  
"No, haven't had time. Classes are beginning again today. I needed to prepare a lesson," Frank replied, shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth. His green eyes dwelled on Harry's somber face. "Why?"  
  
Harry reached into his robes and pulled out a rather crumpled copy of the paper. He tossed it at Frank, turning once again to his breakfast, but not touching it.  
  
Frank gingerly peeled the paper from his pile of sausages and shook it open. He read the front page, pulled a wry face, and reread it. His face drained of all color as he turned to face Harry again.  
  
"That bad, is it?"  
  
"Well, I suppose she knows whether she'll live through it, but she didn't tell me. And it can't be good if she gave me that odd necklace that she always wears. She never takes it off. So why now? It doesn't make sense!" Harry accentuated this last remark with a powerful pounding of his fist upon the table.  
  
Frank swallowed resolutely and said, "There's nothing we can do, Harry. What is done is done: that's all there is to it. I'm sorry."  
  
"I know, I know," Harry mumbled. "It's just—oh, she can be so, so . . . exasperating!" he finally exclaimed, realizing that he was at a loss of words.  
  
"I understand," Frank said in return with a sympathetic pat of the arm. "Just try not to worry."  
  
"Oh, yes, as though that is going to work," Harry spat bitterly.  
  
Frank drew his arm back and managed to twist a thin smile. "Being rude isn't going to help either of us any . . . cheer up, there's a good lad."  
  
Harry sighed resolutely, straightened, and picked at his breakfast. After reaching his classroom, he tried to organize the lesson for the day, but his mind kept wandering to the necklace he'd left in his room. And that eye he'd seen within it . . .  
  
It had been yellow, he decided, with small flecks of brown and hazel. The pupil was a slit, like a cat's. He also remembered Hermione's gift to him. What an odd gift it had been.  
  
Hermione. It hurt to think of her, thrashing about, not recognizing those she loved, caught under the spells and illusions of the tyrannical Voldemort, the most fearsome being of all time. And Alice was battling him at this very moment.  
  
With another heavy sigh, Harry determined himself to get through classes, which were to begin in . . . he looked at his watch.  
  
Hmm, how odd, he thought. Classes were supposed to start nearly a half-hour ago. Frowning, he stood to look outside the door to see if he could stop any passerby to inquire as to the delay.  
  
As he stood, the room seemingly spun about him. He gripped the desk with a white-knuckled hand to keep himself from falling. Suddenly, a vision struck him as vividly as though it was occurring right before his eyes . . .  
  
A dusky leopard of monolithic proportions lunged at Harry, its lethal mouth gaping and its ivory teeth bared, blood dripping from its freshest kill. The golden eyes glinted with a primordial fire of deadly savageness, their depths so endless that Harry thought himself to be falling, falling into the mysteriously melancholy fathoms of their crystal-clear splendor. Harry found himself drawing back, but getting no further or closer to the horrific revelation.  
  
Next thing he knew, a starless night seemed to sweep over him, a gentle coolness flowed in his every vein, and he knew no more as he collapsed in a senseless heap upon the classroom floor.  
  
  
  
"God, what a wimp," Emily muttered as she slapped Harry's face. She pursed her over-done lips as she shifted her weight from one knee to the other. Harry was still sprawled on the floor, and she was kneeling beside him, trying vainly to revive him.  
  
"Hello?" Frank stuck his head through the door, one eyebrow raised quizzically.  
  
"He's passed out," Emily said in mock franticness. "Please, please, help me to wake him up!" She tried to look pitiful and helpless as she began slapping his wrist.  
  
"That's what happens to a bugger when he has no breakfast," Frank declared as he fell gracefully to his knees as well. Checking Harry's pulse, he looked her in the face and shrugged. "Dunno what's wrong with the guy. Stress? What do you think?"  
  
Harry spluttered a choking gasp and then fell still once more.  
  
"Oh no!" Emily exclaimed, cupping his face with her hands. "Oh, wake up, Harry, wake up!"  
  
Frank sighed. "Not much we can do . . . look around and see if he has any water in the room . . ."  
  
Emily rushed madly about the room, searching every nook and cranny for a bottle of water. Finally, she found one in a clustered desk drawer.  
  
She scuttled to Frank's side as quickly as she could on her towering heels and handed the bottle to Frank. He unscrewed the cap and moaned, "I hate to do this, but . . ." and emptied the bottle on Harry's face.  
  
He sputtered, squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and brought a hand up to claw the water from his eyes, nostrils, and mouth. Taking a gulping breath of air, Harry's eyes flew wide open and he stared at Frank and Emily.  
  
"The cat—"  
  
"What cat?" Emily was hard pressed to conceal her disdain at Harry's 'wimpiness,' as she called it. She thought him an insufferably petty breed of Loser.  
  
"What are you talking about, Harry?" Frank tried to hide his concern.  
  
"I don't know . . ." Harry made a move to sit up, but groaned and fell back onto the floor. "I think I bumped my head."  
  
"I'll get some ice," Emily volunteered quickly. She stood once again and trotted from the room.  
  
Harry moaned again. He straightened his glasses, which were askew and dripping somewhat from his unexpected douching. Absently, he rubbed the lenses with the soaking hem of his robe as he talked with Frank.  
  
"I don't know what's going on. This has all been so weird, this year. It's like all my other awful experiences combined . . ." He didn't realize he was shaking.  
  
"Yes, well, what can you expect? Great things are expected of great wizards. Maybe it's just stress." Frank shrugged.  
  
"I don't think so . . . I had this really weird—vision. I think that's what you'd call it, since I was awake. And it was this really big leopard, and it was leaping at me."  
  
"Might be that big cat Alice is trying to fend off," Frank suggested absently.  
  
"That's it!" Harry sat up abruptly, and subsequently cupped his throbbing head with his hands. "She must've been sending me some sort of vision . . ."  
  
"Wait wait wait, Alice was sending you some sort of—message?"  
  
"I don't know . . . something along those lines, I suppose. What else would it be?"  
  
"Harry, maybe you need some . . .rest. You've been working really hard lately, and we all know what you've been going through . . ."  
  
"What, you think I'm going crazy? Is that it?" Harry looked sternly at Frank.  
  
"Well, no, it's just . . ." Frank knew he was cornered.  
  
Harry sighed. "Maybe you're right. That's probably what Voldemort wants, isn't it? For me to go mad, to kill off Alice, and then he can just take over the world. Frank, what will I do?"  
  
"Have some fun. Don't be so serious all the time."  
  
Harry pensively thought over the idea. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Where were all the students this morning?"  
  
"Didn't you hear the announcement?"  
  
"No." Harry looked puzzled.  
  
Frank explained, with an odd, unreadable expression on his face, "Yes, they announced this morning, right after breakfast, that classes were postponed until tomorrow. Oh well . . ."  
  
Harry rubbed his throbbing temples with his thumbs. "God, what's wrong with me, Frank?"  
  
"Just go get some rest," Frank said with firm conviction. "I'm sure you'll feel better."  
  
"Yes . . ." Harry stood unsteadily and tottered out the door toward his room.  
  
"Poor man . . . he needs Alice to come back." Frank shook his head as he left the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
  
  
Harry awoke to a gentle knock on his door. The draperies were pulled and his sheets were up to his chin. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and made a weak attempt to struggle out of bed.  
  
"Yes? Who's there?" he called hoarsely.  
  
No one answered.  
  
Frowning, he went to the door. "Hello? Who are you?"  
  
Whoever was standing on the other side of the doorway merely knocked twice more.  
  
Harry was reluctant to open it. Everything was so mixed up at the moment . . . what if it was Voldemort, or someone connected to him? And he had this awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. That singing feeling deep in one's gut when something is amiss . . .  
  
"Hello?" Harry reluctantly swung open the door.  
  
Something fell into his arms. He staggered under its weight. Something crinkling engulfed him as he staggered to the bed. He struggled to push the heavy object onto his bed. Finally, he glanced down at it.  
  
"Really, I'm fine," it whispered meekly.  
  
"Like hell!" Harry nearly shouted. "You look fit for a burial!"  
  
He took in every detail of Alice's appearance. Her blonde hair was a disheveled shock of tangles, her once flowing silk dress was in rags and spattered with mud and other unpleasant things, a few stains looking suspiciously like blood. Her pale face was even paler than usual, her skin was stretched tautly against her fine bones, and her eyes looked sunken in the purple bags surrounding them. He'd never seen her look so deplorable in his brief time of knowing her.  
  
"Well, it was a tough time killing that beast," she replied. "And I'm absolutely drained of any magical power. I used the very last of it to get back to Hogwarts. Harry, would you be so kind as to fetch me a glass of water?" Some note in her voice reached out to him, and he felt a little pang of guilt at exploding at her. She looked ready to fall asleep at any moment.  
  
"No magic? At all?" he asked as he fetched her a cup.  
  
"Not a single drop. I couldn't use my magic to pick up that pencil over there." She raised a feeble, transparent-looking hand to point to a pencil not a foot away.  
  
Harry's face creased in worry. If Alice couldn't help Hogwarts in its current predicament, that left one person . . . himself. And he felt thoroughly incapable of handling any crisis at the moment. His nerves were as taut as they could be without snapping. Any added weight upon his over- burdened shoulders would be sure to finish him for good.  
  
"God, Alice, you couldn't have chosen a worse time to run dry . . ."  
  
"I know." She sounded regretful. "But a few more weeks and I'll—"  
  
"A few more weeks could be too late."  
  
She was silent. She sighed deeply and spoke, and when her words did come, they were the words of someone weary beyond emotion. "A fine welcome for the weary warrior. Harry, I cannot help what must be done. And the past is the past. There is no use dwelling in it. Life is too short for such. You must live for the present. It's all you have. You can't plan for the future, for what if it doesn't exist? And you can't change the past. So you must enjoy the simple pleasures as they come."  
  
He didn't understand why she was telling him all this, but he soaked it up in quiet anticipation.  
  
"You must learn to take responsibility. Others with more experience and knowledge will not always be there to guide you. No matter what, you must remember that fear is deadly. If you let your fright take you over, let you take it in its iron grip, it will never release you, and you will be helpless unto it. Deep inside of you, you will always know what to do. Dwell upon this secret knowledge. Use it whenever possible. And use the knowledge of others. Always listen to what others have to say, no matter how ignorant they may appear to be. We must always use the guidance of others to smooth our own paths. The easier the road, the more you may accomplish. And the more you may accomplish, the easier you make the roads of others, for you can give them more advice. If you can make the lives of others worth living, then you have served a purpose. Never let greed get in that path. It is a roadblock of such proportions that it is nearly immobile. It is a permanent setback in the twisting path before us. There are enough challenges as it is, and there is no need to make the road any harder than it is. Look to those stronger than yourself for strength, to those wiser than you for wisdom, and those more creative than yourself for ideas. And life will never fail you, no matter how hopeless it will seem at times. Never give up, Harry, for when things are at their worst, they can only get better."  
  
He contemplated this. Suddenly he asked, "Is there a God, Alice?"  
  
"I do not have to answer that question."  
  
"But you pray so often . . ."  
  
"Perhaps it's a semblance of holiness."  
  
"Perhaps. But perhaps not."  
  
Both were silent.  
  
"Does Heaven exist?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"Hell?"  
  
"It could."  
  
"You are so elusive . . ."  
  
"And you so inquisitive . . ." She didn't say anything for a moment. "Listen, I really need some rest if I'm to recuperate. Could I just rest awhile?"  
  
Suddenly Harry felt worried for Alice all over again. "Of course! Make yourself at home."  
  
"Thank you . . ." Alice was so tired that she fell immediately asleep. Harry's mind turned over the confusing words she had spoken. What had it all meant? Was trouble ahead? Oh, what should he do! He had so much weight upon his shoulders . . . had his parents struggled with these thoughts, ever? Had they ever needed to take up the burdens of countless helpless others? He liked to think so. It made him feel some relation with them, for he had never known them. He wondered what happy times they had shared. He wished that, for just a few years, they could have stuck around and he could have gotten to know them. But the closest he could come to that was to ask Lupin about his mother and father from their schooldays together. And even then, there wasn't that much he could learn of that. Sirius could probably tell him about them. But it wasn't the same! It wasn't the same as actually knowing them, actually seeing them smiling at him, actually hearing their happy voices as they told him about the many moments of triumph they had shared. He remembered what Alice had said: "Live for the present." He felt that he had unbroken ties to the past, ties which he was reluctant to break, for they were the last ties he had to the parents he had never known.  
  
Why couldn't he be like everyone else, with so few worries and so few regrets? But—Alice had just as many troubles as he did. In fact, she had innumerable others that he could not even begin to imagine. She knew her fate. She knew what happened after death. She could see horrifying things that Harry would never want to see. And she couldn't block them. She couldn't avoid them. Life truly wasn't fair. But why, why was Alice burdened with such a 'gift' as omnipotence? Why would any mortal have such powers? How could any mortal stand such perpetual floods of knowledge?  
  
He looked about the sun-dappled room. It looked so warm and cheerful. But outside, he knew the winds were gusting and the sleet was falling, even if the sun was shining. And he knew that Hogwarts was facing more danger than it had ever before faced, even if the merry laughter of students could be heard echoing in the hallways. Why could appearances be so deceiving?  
  
His gaze landed on the slumbering Alice. She looked so deceptively peaceful, curled up in a defenseless-looking ball on his bed. In some dream of which Harry was no part (he hoped), her thin face crumpled into a frown and she kicked lightly at some object that dwelled in her subconscious. Harry decided she was nothing short of a goddess.  
  
With that last thought, he too drifted off to sleep.  
  
  
  
Frank couldn't help but beam with utter happiness at the improvement in Harry that evening. Alice sat by his side throughout the evening, no matter how peaked and utterly exhausted she appeared. She seemed happy, too, even through her somewhat bedraggled appearance. At least she'd tidied herself up somewhat. She'd brushed her hair, put on a fresh purple dress, and actually some makeup to cover the bruise-like bags under her eyes.  
  
To Harry, she fairly sparkled. He couldn't keep his eyes from her. All throughout the supper, his eyes would wander every few moments to her face to make sure she was really there. Sometimes he would pat her shoulder or something to make sure he really hadn't gone crazy, that she was material and tangible. Throughout the whole ordeal, a weary, amused smile remained on Alice's face.  
  
Steak had never tasted so good to Harry. He didn't even realize that Alice wasn't touching her meal. Frank did, but remained silent.  
  
After the students were safely tucked away in their common rooms, Alice suggested they see their friends. "I want to see them again and have a nice chat. It seems like I've been gone for ages!" Harry saw her eagerness and decided that he would enjoy some time with their friends, even if he would rather spend time alone with her. With a sigh of resignation, he and Alice summoned up Frank, Emily, and Lupin.  
  
Alice sighed in contentment when they were finally all squeezed into her bedroom. "I'm so glad to be home!"  
  
"We're glad you're home, too," Lupin interjected with an absent pat of her hand.  
  
She smiled at him. "Why thank you."  
  
Emily looked impatient. "Yes, we missed you a lot."  
  
Alice smiled at her, too, but this time it looked different. Almost nasty. "How kind of you to say so," she said in an aloof manner that made everyone present raise their eyebrows.  
  
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry to be cross. I've had a very hard past few days . . . please forgive me."  
  
Emily just looked at her disdainfully. "As if I want to!"  
  
"Forgive and forget." Alice's voice was ominously low and melodic.  
  
"Think about what you say before you say it." Emily's voice was mocking.  
  
"Who wants to play Firestones?" Frank asked.  
  
"Firestones?" Lupin wrinkled his nose. "What's that?"  
  
"It's a trust game," Frank replied. "These little stones are bewitched. Of course, someone here has to make the stones. Anyway, you take turns asking each other questions, and each person has to answer with the truth. If they do not, the little stones light up, like fire, and each person gets to take a bonus 'penalty shot' at the offender."  
  
"So why is it called Firestones?" Harry inquired.  
  
"Weren't you listening?" Emily asked.  
  
"Oh, yeah, right, of course," Harry mumbled. "But—who's going to make the stones?"  
  
"Alice, of course," Lupin stated in a matter-of-fact way.  
  
"Nope nope," Alice said with a grin.  
  
"Why not?" Frank questioned, obviously somewhat bewildered.  
  
"I'll tell you how to make them, but I am clean out of magic," she claimed.  
  
"Dear God," mumbled Emily. "Now we're in for it."  
  
"Jumping dragons," exclaimed Lupin.  
  
"We might as well kill ourselves now, before Voldemort can get to us," Frank groaned.  
  
"Now, now . . . to make Firestones . . . first, make stones."  
  
Frank did so.  
  
"Then shout, 'Crucilis Relinous Freuflion!'"  
  
Frank again did so.  
  
"And there we have our Firestones. Who dares ask the first question?"  
  
There was a moment's silence. Then Harry asked, "Emily, did you ever care for me?"  
  
She looked somewhat uncomfortable. "Why, of course, Harry—"  
  
One of the stones began to glow faintly green. One by one, they lit up: purple, red, yellow, orange, blue.  
  
"Oooh, bad start, m'girl," Frank clucked. "I'll start . . . why lie about it?"  
  
"Well, I felt bad just saying plain-out 'no.'"  
  
"Why did you ever lead me on to believe that you might have cared if you didn't?"  
  
"Well, because . . . you're Harry Potter. Every girl is head-over- heels about you. I thought that it might look good for me."  
  
"Doesn't that kind of thinking make you feel guilty?" Lupin cajoled.  
  
"No," was the blunt reply.  
  
"Aren't you ashamed?" Frank questioned.  
  
"Can't honestly say I am, and that's what this game is all about, isn't it?" she replied icily.  
  
"Lastly, do you admit to being a common doxy who likes nothing better than stealing the hearts of honest, wonderful men and then trampling them in the dirt?"  
  
She screwed up her face. "Yes."  
  
Alice pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows in a gesture that said all-too-well, "I told you so." "Well, I guess you get to ask a question now."  
  
"Lupin: what woman means the most to you of anyone, and why?"  
  
He looked pensive for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. "Well, I must say that it would be Alice." Everyone waited for him to finish answering the question. "Because . . . well, remember how she was shipped all over the place, since she was an orphan? I took care of her for several months."  
  
No one said a word. Alice lowered her eyes and swallowed hard.  
  
"You see, I was wonderful to her . . . and she was a perfect little angel. Stole my heart. I felt like I was needed for the first time ever, because I was her father, or as close as I could become to one. That was around the time she started seeing visions and that sort of thing. She needed the help of a wizard, someone who at least understood magic, although I must admit, I was as puzzled as any Muggle would be . . . well, things went well enough until the committees in charge of foster and adoptive parents found out that I was—not normal. A werewolf. And—" His voice cracked. He took a deep breath. "They took her away from me. I didn't think I'd ever see her again. But then I was hired here, at Hogwarts, in your third year, Harry. And I met a girl with blonde curls and purple eyes and skin far too pale to mistaken for that of any other child . . . but that even was a short-lived reunion. We tried to keep in touch after she left after her fourth year, but it was tough, with her travelling about so often. Of course, by the time I had met up with her at Hogwarts again, her odd gift was full-blown . . . she could communicate with me through some system I could only describe as telepathy. We could talk through each other's minds . . . anyhow, you can imagine how thrilled I was to find her back at Hogwarts this year. And I apologize if I've been quite—paternal—toward her, but I was her father for at least a few months, and the relationship has always been that way."  
  
Alice smiled and patted his hand absently as she laid her head upon his shoulder. "Dear, dear 'Papa Lupin,'" she sighed. "You were the best foster parent I had."  
  
"I know," he said none too modestly. He patted her blonde head fondly.  
  
Harry just shook his head in amazement. "Well, I suppose it's your turn, Lupin."  
  
"Harry: how much do you love Alice? I think we're all curious."  
  
Harry didn't even hesitate. "As much as I love myself."  
  
"How much is that?" Alice interjected promptly.  
  
This time Harry had to take a moment to think. "I'm not sure . . . but hey, it's not your turn, anyhow."  
  
"Yes, yes. As I thought. Your question."  
  
"Frank—what do you think your purpose in life is?"  
  
"To help others to live better lives so they may in turn make the lives of others easier." Frank looked thoughtful. "I just hope I can help others and make their lives worth something. Otherwise I feel like I'm doing nothing. I don't think 'me me me' like so many people do. I know it seems odd, but I can't. It's such a selfish outlook on life that doesn't in any way improve our culture. If we want to advance the human race in any way, we have to look past the present and into the generations yet to come. And the only time we can look back is to find the advice left us by others. For otherwise, we waste time dawdling in that which is not worth our time and efforts."  
  
"Well said," Harry agreed with a nod of his head. "Well, your turn to ask a question."  
  
"I suppose I must ask Alice, then," he mused, "for she's the only one who hasn't been asked a question as of yet."  
  
"Yes, that's true," she replied.  
  
"Will Voldemort succeed in overthrowing Hogwarts, or whatever the hell he's trying to do?"  
  
"Of course not," she proclaimed openly.  
  
Everyone sat stunned for a moment at the bluntness of her answer. She always answered questions dealing with the future in riddles, always claiming that it was "to keep them from trying to do anything about it." Which was silly, for they all knew that whatever was planned for the future was planned, but could not be changed. Or could it?  
  
"All right . . . well, I guess you get to ask the next question." Lupin had stopped stroking her blonde curls and had stood. Even Alice's luxurious bed was uncomfortable after a while, especially when she was digging her bony frame into your body.  
  
Suddenly, the door opened, and a slight draft crept into the room. They all looked toward the door to see who could possibly be standing there.  
  
"Ron!" Harry walked briskly to the door and threw his arms around his best friend's neck. Ron returned the embrace in a careless, dazed manner. Harry drew away and patted Ron's flaming red head.  
  
"What's up, man? Come on, sit down with us. We're playing Firestones."  
  
"I haven't played that for ages," Ron admitted.  
  
"Neither have any of us. Come, sit, and join the fun. We've rather done the introductory round. Now I think we can delve more into the juicy stuff."  
  
"Oh good, then I didn't really miss anything." Ron smiled, but his eyes looked every bit as melancholy and shadowed as they always seemed nowadays. Harry realized sadly that without Hermione, Ron was a mere shadow of his old self. And with Voldemort at the head of this operation, there was always the possibility of Hermione's terrible fate being permanent.  
  
"Yes, well, you missed some things, of course, but nothing really important," Emily informed him. "Lupin was Alice's foster father, Voldemort is not going to win this whole ordeal,"—Ron's eyes lit up somewhat at the mention of this bit of information—"Frank's trying to be a saint, I'm a slut, and Harry loves Alice, big surprise."  
  
"You were her father?" Ron asked incredulously.  
  
Lupin looked exasperated. "I suppose you could put it that way," he finally stuttered. "Now let's continue with the game. Alice, it was your question." Lupin repositioned himself on the bed as Alice cleared her throat.  
  
"Ron, what can we do to help you?"  
  
"Nothing." His reply was blunt, bored. "The only thing I can do is to find the person at the head of this conspiracy and kill them."  
  
"Yes . . . well, good chap, your question," Frank interjected quickly. No one particularly cared for the mad gleam in Ron's eyes as he said this.  
  
"Alice—will I ever get Hermione back?" Ron's voice seemed pathetically weak. She squared her thin shoulders and took a deep breath in preparation to give him some befuddled answer when he pleaded, "Please, Alice. I swear, if I can have a definite answer to this question, I will be contented."  
  
She let out the breath in one elongated sigh. Closing her eyes, she mumbled, "Yes."  
  
"What?" Harry hadn't heard.  
  
"Yes," she stated somewhat louder.  
  
Before anyone knew quite what was happening, Ron began to cry. "Thank God," he exclaimed. All the people on the bed draped an arm about his shoulder. "Oh, praise God! I don't care if I don't see her again 'til I'm fifty—well, I do, but . . . I'll see her again! Oh, thank you Alice, thank you. You are a saint!" He hugged her fiercely.  
  
Harry felt so choked up he could hardly speak. "I'm so glad," he finally managed to gasp. "So glad." He was quite pleased to see some of the old Ron reenter the desolate face of his closest comrade.  
  
"Okay, Alice, your question. But you can't ask Ron, or you'd have to accept a penalty question from each player," Harry reminded her. "You can't monopolize the game."  
  
"All right, seeing as you're so intent upon staying in the game," she said with a wicked smile, "how about answering this question: what was your first impression of each of us?"  
  
"Oooh, um . . ." Harry concentrated. What had he thought of each of these people? "Well . . . I'll start with Ron. I thought that you were very . . . unusual looking. No, wait, don't look that way . . . I also thought you looked an extremely kind person, if not somewhat . . . shabby. I'm sorry, please, don't look that way! I must tell the truth, you know. Lupin looked like a far better professor than any of the Dark Arts teachers had so far been. He also seemed an extremely kind person, one in whom I could confide and with whom I could talk about things that I might not want to share with people my age. Because no matter how much you trust a person your age, well . . . the topic of discussion always seems to get around sooner or later. Alice . . . you were—incredible. I'd never met anyone like you. You looked so different while be so extraordinarily beautiful that I couldn't help but pick you out of a crowd. I knew right away that you were someone with whom I could truly be close. I felt a certain comradeship with you, you just seemed to . . . radiate kindness, or something of the sort. Frank, you seemed almost cold the first night I met you, but I suppose we were all somewhat uptight after that long journey over here and all that. You seemed much kinder after I'd gotten to know you. At first I'd almost thought . . . well, almost thought that you were some dark wizard working for Voldemort or something. And Emily . . . Emily, Emily . . . you were so beautiful. I thought, for a while, that maybe, just maybe, I loved you. But no, it was lust. Because I've found the real person I love." He smiled at Alice. She caught his gaze and held it, and the look that passed between them was so intimate that no one could speak for a few moments.  
  
Finally, Frank cleared his throat and said, "Hrmph, well. It always is interesting to see what people first think of you . . ."  
  
"Isn't it, though?" Alice inquired with a sparkle in her eye. "Well, Harry, do continue. We don't want to hold up the game."  
  
"No one's mad at me?" It wasn't even a question, just a very meek inquiry.  
  
"Heavens no, sport," exclaimed Lupin. "Quite pleased, quite pleased."  
  
"Why should I be? It was my fault that I came across as moody," Frank admitted.  
  
"Oh no, how could I be? I'm not disappointed by anything.  
  
"It was all the truth, so I suppose not," Ron added.  
  
"Hell yes, but I'm not going to let it pull me down," Emily said with her head held high.  
  
"Good girl," Frank commemorated enthusiastically as he patted her hand.  
  
"Well, let's continue, shall we?" Ron said by way of a none-too- subtle hint.  
  
"Of course, of course," Harry exclaimed. "Hmmm . . . I don't know. Are any of you getting sick of this? Shall we just continue it later? We should gather ourselves back together tomorrow."  
  
"Yes," Ron prattled with a sigh, "I'm so tired. I really think that we ought to get going to bed. And Hermione! Oh, I will see her again. Thank you, Alice, thank you oh-so-much! I now have something to look forward to—"  
  
"Oh, do be quiet, you ninny," Lupin muttered. "I'm developing a terrible headache.  
  
Alice stood with a smile. "Thank you for coming, all of you. Same time, tomorrow night?"  
  
"Yes, of course," everyone exclaimed mutually.  
  
"All right then. Off to bed we all go!" She accentuated this last remark with a none-too-subtle yawn.  
  
Everyone scrambled off the bed and scuttled towards the door. Alice saw them all out into the hallway. Harry was last, lingering behind.  
  
"Yes?" she ventured with a smile.  
  
"I never did give you back your necklace . . ."  
  
"Oh, don't worry about it—yet. Just give it back to me tomorrow morning."  
  
"Alice?"  
  
"Mm-hmm?"  
  
Harry skidded the toe of his shoe shyly against the carpet. "Could you teach me how to read a crystal ball?"  
  
Sighing, she reached up onto a shelf where she picked up an elaborate crystal ball, set in ebony and gold. "Look deep into it, Harry. Let me warn you: you must want to know the future to see it. At least, that's how it is in a crystal ball." She let the well-concealing mask slip from her eyes for one moment and he managed to see the terrible sadness they held. She veiled them quickly. "You must want to see the future, Harry. But so few people do. They think they do, mind you, but deep within themselves, they find that they don't want to know the details of their demise. For once you know, there is no changing it. And once you know, it will haunt you. So very few people can look into the crystal ball and see what they wish to see. For, when they gaze into the crystal, they see what deep within them they really want to see: nothing. They don't want to see the future, real or otherwise. I recommend that you do not learn the art of crystal gazing, but if you must, go back to your room, take out that crystal ball that Hermione gave you, and search. And if you really want to find it, you will."  
  
"Thank you." Harry put his arms around her and gave her a light peck on the forehead. "Good night."  
  
She turned her face from his. "And to you as well, Harry."  
  
He stood, looking back at her, for one short moment. Then he turned and walked away. If she was indeed crying, like Harry thought, he knew instinctively that it was best to not interfere.  
  
  
  
Back in his room, Harry had unpacked the crystal ball that Hermione had so lightheartedly sent him for his eighteenth birthday. He set it down on the small, scuffed table that was in his room, sat in a chair nearby, and just looked. Looked, and looked, and looked.  
  
The ball just sat there, on its delicate stand of inlaid rosewood, and Harry sighed deeply. Hours and hours passed, but he tried ever so hard to get beyond that feeling of foreboding. He knew Alice had tried to warn him not to look, not to see, but no matter how hard he tried to get past that fact, he just couldn't do it.  
  
Finally, with a weary sigh, Harry stood abruptly. Throwing himself onto the bed, he fell almost immediately into the deepest of sleeps. And he dreamt of the crystal ball. 


	12. Fleeting Fun

Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball  
  
by Hannah  
  
Chapter Twelve ~ Fleeting Fun  
  
Harry awoke to a loud knock on his door.  
  
"Who is it?" he cried sleepily, turning over to try to catch at least a bit more slumber.  
  
"Alice." Her voice rang sweetly.  
  
"Oh, all right," he mumbled crossly. "I'll be there in just a moment."  
  
Throwing on a thick robe of kelly-green flannel, Harry stumbled toward the door. Opening it slowly, he found Alice fully outfitted in her usual attire, well groomed and smiling brightly.  
  
"Sleepyhead," she scolded mockingly. "Classes start in fifteen minutes."  
  
"Oh dear!" Harry exclaimed. "I should go brush my hair and . . . oh, I won't be able to eat, will I?"  
  
"Here, don't fret," Alice reminded him. "I brought you a tray from the Great Hall."  
  
From behind her back she produced a tray piled with various fruits, a steaming bowl of oats, and several glasses of various juices.  
  
"I would have used my magic to create a meal for you," she explained somewhat sheepishly, "but, as you know, I can't do a single thing right now." She sighed. "I don't know how I'm going to teach today." She smiled at him. Suddenly changing her countenance, she exclaimed, "Oh, you'd better hurry and eat, or we'll both be dreadfully late!"  
  
He sat down and shoveled food into his mouth as she grabbed a brush and attempted to give some sort of order to his unruly black locks.  
  
"Your necklace—" he managed to gasp between bites.  
  
"Don't fret, I'll fetch it," she declared, gently lifting it from its place on Harry's bedside table and placing it about her neck. She then waited somewhat impatiently for Harry to finish his meal.  
  
The moment Harry set his spoon down she declared, "Let's go!" and scurried off down the hallway.  
  
Harry snorted amusedly at her antics. He was in no hurry to face his classroom of students. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd tried to teach them. He set off down the hallway at a very deliberate pace. He was in no hurry.  
  
  
  
"All right," Harry said, rubbing his hands together as he stood before his classroom, which happened to be filled with students. "It's been some time since we've seen each other, or, well, some time since I've seen some of you—" He broke himself off, finding that he was sweating nervously. Why am I so nervous to face my own students? he asked himself. He didn't have time to answer his own question.  
  
A boy with blue hair said in a bored monotone, "No need for lengthy introductions, teach. Just get it all over with so we can leave."  
  
Harry was stunned. "Now wait just a moment!" he cried indignantly. "I'm one of the most renowned wizards in the history of our kind, and you dare to—"  
  
"Professor Potter?" A meek young girl in the back row held her hand indecisively in the air. "If I may, I would like to ask a question."  
  
"Very well, very well," Harry replied. He was too weary of this whole teaching business to tell the girl to shut up and let him continue with the lessons.  
  
"Do you remember what it was like to be a student?"  
  
"Of course. I only graduated last year," Harry reminded them.  
  
"Then why are your classes so dull?"  
  
Harry was struck dumb. Was that true? Were his lessons boring? Was he as dull as . . . he gasped at the horror of it—Professor Binns?  
  
"My lessons are . . . dull, you say?" he questioned, trying to keep from choking over the words.  
  
"Well—" The little girl looked upset. "Yes . . ."  
  
Harry sighed and sat abruptly. "How would you like to put on a play?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Sir?" asked a mousy, brown-haired boy, obviously perplexed.  
  
"You heard me, a play. About Ioma Bidmin Peroipritandtabaygode, a man who wrote many spells and also created a good number of potions." The name seemed remotely familiar, but he couldn't remember why. "Let's head toward the library for A Collection of 3,491 Magical Plays. There's bound to be a play about such a famous man in there somewhere."  
  
The class brightened, as did Harry. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a dull day, after all.  
  
  
  
"God, are you kidding?" Frank exclaimed. "Nothing more dull than teaching . . ."  
  
"Well, I quite enjoy it," Alice declared, somewhat ruffled. "And it's quite a challenge, with me not having any magic at all."  
  
Ron smiled. "Wish I could share in the conversation, but I cannot. So let's change the topic, shall we?"  
  
"Yes," Emily agreed. "How about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."  
  
"Why the hell would we want to talk about Voldemort?" Harry nearly shouted. "We all hate the man: let's leave it at that! Voldemort killed—"  
  
"Please, say You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Ron pleaded.  
  
"And for what reason?" Alice demanded severely. "It's foolishness, it is, to be scared to say a wizard's name. I think the most powerful hold the man has on the magical population is the fear he's managed to strike into everyone. Really, everyone present should make some sort of effort at calling the man Voldemort. It's really too kind to show such an awful man any signs of fear." Finished with her little speech, she gave a little huff and waited with angry eyes for anyone to contradict her.  
  
"And while you're at it, call me Remus," Lupin added. "You did for a while . . . but really, it's ridiculous to call me by my last name. What point is there to it?"  
  
"Righto, old boy," Frank cried. "Voldemort and Remus, an unlikely combination!"  
  
Harry intervened. "Is everyone present going to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" he asked.  
  
Everyone answered in the affirmative.  
  
"That's good. Let's plan something."  
  
"How about the Three Broomsticks?" Alice offered.  
  
"Sounds good," Lupin agreed.  
  
"Yeah, we can each have a mug or two of butter beer and discuss the matters at hand," Frank suggested.  
  
"Or, even better, completely forget the 'matters at hand' and pretend like we're students again," Ron countered.  
  
"Wonderful idea!" Lupin proclaimed. "It will be nice to forget all of our responsibilities for one night."  
  
"I agree completely," Emily said affably.  
  
"Very good," Alice concluded. "But what shall we do tonight?"  
  
"Good question . . ." Frank mused. "I'd say dueling, but we'd never stand a chance against you . . ."  
  
"But remember, I have no magic," Alice chided.  
  
"Oh yes," Lupin said. "Well, that narrows possibilities quite nicely, doesn't it? I'm sick of Firestones—"  
  
"Me too," Ron agreed quickly.  
  
"So," Emily thought aloud, "maybe we can play . . . God, I don't know. Great Dragons, there's really nothing to play if you don't have magic. We may as well sit around a campfire and tell ghost stories."  
  
"Well, there is an option," Alice hinted.  
  
"What might that option be, and what would it entail?" Frank asked guardedly. Alice was perpetually trying to talk him into helping her out in small ways. Which, of course, he didn't mind at all. He actually quite enjoyed being picked out of the group to do things for her. He couldn't help but feel a small twinge of jealousy over Harry . . .  
  
"Well, there's such thing as a magic transfer," Alice explained. "If any of you were so inclined to help me . . . or even if all of you just wanted to help me a teeny bit . . ."  
  
Of course, there was a ruckus then, with Harry, Ron, Lupin, and Frank all volunteering at once. Emily couldn't hide her amused smile. "Well, well, well, looks like you've got a passel of donors. I wouldn't mind helping you out."  
  
"Why don't we all?" Harry finally exclaimed. "Though really, she's my girlfriend . . ."  
  
"You want to know what I think?" Lupin asked. "I think that Ron, Frank, Emily, and myself should donate a large portion of our magic to Alice, so that if Fate so calls, the two of you can fend off Voldemort together."  
  
"Really," Alice declared in disgust, "I don't think that's necessary."  
  
"Well, we should each share a part of our magic," Frank insisted. "I mean, I can't even imagine living without mine. I suppose once we're trained in using it, we become dependant upon it. So really, it's only fair that you let the four of us give you a little of our magic. That way we'll all be somewhat equal. And you can play wizarding games with us," Frank added.  
  
"All right, when you make it sound like I'm making the evening more enjoyable for all of you . . . but Harry, they are right, and I don't want you contributing any of your power." She shot him a no-nonsense look.  
  
"All right, all right," Harry exclaimed. "But—"  
  
"No buts!" Alice interrupted. "Now, the four of you hold hands, and I will stand in the middle of the circle." Everyone took a moment to oblige, except for Harry. "All right, now, all of you must recite this simple incantation: Frimpy frumps and grochy grouers, give this person back their powers!"  
  
Everyone just stared at her for a moment. "You're serious, aren't you," Lupin stated incredulously.  
  
"Yes," Alice replied. "I mean, not every spell is sophisticated and in Latin and all that crap. Some incantations are . . . well, quite odd."  
  
"Obviously," Frank mumbled. "Well, let's get it over with, so we can start enjoying ourselves."  
  
"Yes, yes," Lupin agreed.  
  
Together, the four friends performed the spell. A sudden burst of purplish light radiated from Alice, and the circle surrounding her collapsed as the entire quartet fell to the floor. Laughing, they picked themselves up and gathered together once more.  
  
"Did it work?" Lupin asked eagerly.  
  
"Yes, Remus dear, I think it did," Alice replied, giving an experimental zap to a portion of the carpet. It frizzled beneath the lavender flames. With a tight smile, she shot another stream of magic at the carpet, and it was as good as new. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "I didn't even realize how much I missed my abilities!"  
  
Harry laughed and embraced her. "Well, I'm glad that you're back to your old self. Now, what game shall we play?"  
  
"Well, let's duel. That was the suggestion. We could even partner up. A three-way duel. Wouldn't that be fun?"  
  
"Yes, I think it would be." Harry smiled. "That is, as long as you and I are matched up."  
  
Alice laughed. "We don't want to monopolize the game, Harry-po."  
  
"Harry-po? What the hell?" Emily shouted, giving way to laughter.  
  
"Sorry, forgot myself," Alice muttered demurely, turning a becoming shade of pink.  
  
"I like it," Harry said, giving her a kiss on the forehead.  
  
"Hmmm," Alice gave a contented little laugh. "And I like it too, if it gets me such wonderful treatment."  
  
Frank laughed. "Enough, enough! Not all of us are gifted enough to earn the affections of the opposite sex."  
  
"Yes well," Lupin declared, "let's start the duels! Oh, um . . . what are the teams?"  
  
"Well, they should be fairly equal . . ." Emily minded. "We can't go having Harry and Alice on the same team, or anything like that."  
  
"Yes . . . this is what I suggest," Lupin professed. "Alice and Frank, Ron and Harry, and Emily and me. Will that do?"  
  
"Sure," Ron exclaimed enthusiastically. He couldn't believe his luck at having Harry as his dueling partner.  
  
"Well, then," Frank said, clearing his throat, "just one question remains: how do you hold a duel between three parties?"  
  
"Ummm . . ." Harry pondered this for a moment. "I guess you just take aim and say a spell, granted you don't hit your own partner."  
  
Lupin laughed. "Very well. Now where's my partner?"  
  
"Over here, Remus," Emily proclaimed with a little wave. She was located in the corner of the room. "Let's piece together some sort of plan."  
  
Lupin nodded his head and made his way over to Emily. They held a short whispered conference.  
  
Harry and Ron headed off for another corner, occupied only by a bright tropical plant. The room was already dark, since it was snowing outside. Only lit by the flickering light of the torches in their sconces, The atmosphere seemed even more eerie in their wavering glow. The shadows cast about the room were ghostly and surreal, and Harry felt his blood rise to the occasion.  
  
"Just like old times, eh, Ron?"  
  
"Yeah, just like old times. Only—" He choked on the word.  
  
"Yes?" Harry sounded concern.  
  
"Only . . . well, Hermione isn't here to knock the socks off of us."  
  
"No, instead, Alice is." Harry gave a little smile. "Cheer up, Ron, she said you'd get her back."  
  
"I know, I know," Ron admitted. "It's just, well, I want her now. We were going to get married soon. I miss spending time with her. Imagine if Alice were suddenly gone from your life. What would you do?"  
  
"Well, our relationship hasn't progressed to betrothal," Harry pointed out, "However . . . I would miss her dearly," he confessed. A short, uncomfortable pause ensued. "Let's forget about that and concentrate on the duel. What are we going to do?"  
  
Ten minutes later, A fair-sized circle had been formed in a cleared portion of the room. The fabulous desk and matching chair had been pushed against the wall, her dresser moved as much as it would go, and the delicate, intricately woven carpets had been lain carefully upon the bed. The high-gloss ebony floorboards twinkled beneath their feet.  
  
"Ready?" Alice asked. "Wizards, and witches, bow to your opponents."  
  
Each person in the room bent rather stiffly to the others. Alice's wide sleeves swept gracefully along the floorboards.  
  
"All right . . . may the duel begin!"  
  
Almost instantaneously, Alice had the four torches extinguished. They hissed in as everyone present was cloaked in utter darkness; Harry could smell the smoke emanating from them.  
  
Before he knew what was happening, something hit him squarely in the chest. Not taking the time to investigate the matter, he threw a powerful Engorgement Curse at whoever was standing directly opposite him. He heard someone squeal in the darkness.  
  
A bright, blinding flash of green erupted from the wand that Harry believed to belong to Lupin. It soared in a bright arc above the circle of duelers and landed where Alice should've been. Harry recognized the hex. It was supposed to lock a person's joints so they couldn't move. But he didn't hear the telltale thump that someone had fallen to the ground. She must've used the counter-hex, for it did take a long time for that particular curse to hit its target.  
  
Biting his lip determinedly, Harry shot off a small ball of blue fire. He heard it swish through the air as it landed on someone's robe. With a screech, the person managed to target a stream of water upon the flame. It extinguished itself with an ominous hiss.  
  
Harry heard Frank muttering something somewhere nearby. Suddenly, something glaringly magenta hit Harry squarely on the face. He felt it meld into his very features, and then a searing pain ripped through him. He'd never been acquainted with this spell before.  
  
Throwing all his energy into the task at hand, Harry racked his brain for the perfect defense in this duel. Meanwhile, bright lights and various fluids flew before his eyes as each of his friends took aim at someone with some clever curse. Why couldn't he think of anything?  
  
Maybe, he thought, just maybe, someone doesn't want me to think of any curses. And they've used some sort of curse to keep me from thinking of any!  
  
The only person Harry knew who contained such power was Alice. A very bright curse of canary yellow illuminated the room for a split second. He saw that almost everyone was a wreck of some sort. Emily had sprouted horns, Frank was speckled in warts, Ron looked like he'd been set afire (had he hit Ron, his partner?), Lupin was streaked with various streaks of color, and Alice's beautiful hair had metamorphosed to an ugly shade of pea green. But she had a look of grim determination on her face as she aimed her wand at him and mumbled a curse under his breath.  
  
Suddenly, he was floating in the air above them all. He remembered Alice telling Hermione that the gold inlay in her wand helped increase the speed with which her spells could be performed. Even so, Harry hadn't really realized until then how powerful such a weapon must be.  
  
Dangling in thin air above the others, he lit his wand carefully. "Lumos," he muttered. No one would dream of looking upwards, except for Alice. Even so, she looked busy enough.  
  
He decided there wasn't much he could do, floating nearly ten feet above the rest of the duelers. Turning over so he was floating on his stomach, he made himself as comfortable as possible and settled himself to watch.  
  
Alice was shooting off curses and hexes almost as fast as she could think of them. Sparks and streamers of all colors imaginable, and even some that weren't, made their way from the tip of her wand to the bodies of her three remaining opponents. Suddenly, before the thought could register in Harry's mind, she had disappeared.  
  
You can't Disparate at Hogwarts, Harry reminded himself. But then what did she do?  
  
Lupin managed to re-ignite one of the torches for a few seconds before it was put out by the non-visible Alice.  
  
"Dammit, she used an invisibility spell," Emily screeched. The tidy little circle was no more. Everyone was scattered about the room, hiding behind the bed or the wardrobe or anywhere that would offer the least bit protection.  
  
"Where the hell's Harry?" Lupin asked.  
  
"Dunno," Frank replied. "Maybe he knows how to make himself invisible, too." He shot a snake at Lupin, but it went haywire, and it landed instead right on Harry's back.  
  
"Curse it!" he exclaimed, and then began to speak in Parseltongue, the language of snakes. "Get off my back, damn you," he scolded. The snake dropped down onto the head of some unfortunate victim below. Whoever it was bellowed in surprised.  
  
A bright stream of violet liquid erupted from the end of Emily's wand and landed on Lupin's head. He began to squirm as a second head popped from his skull. "Jumping dragons!" he yelled, and threw back at her a series of red pellets, that exploded on her face in a multitude of scratchy measles.  
  
"I already had the chicken pox!" she screamed at him. "Besides, you're my partner!"  
  
"They're not chicken pox, firstly," he muttered, "they're measles. And secondly, I'm quite sorry about that, but you got me first!" After that, he sent some sort of counter-curse at her.  
  
"Much better," she grumbled, taking aim at Frank with a load of chicken feet.  
  
Suddenly, Harry's wand did something unexpected. Gasping in surprise and terror, it gave off an uncanny red glow before a small explosion blasted from the end of it. Everyone below was in danger of burning into a crispy mess when Alice suddenly became visible once more and shouted incoherently. The flames turned to white doves and fluttered out of the open window.  
  
"My God," Lupin stuttered, dropping his wand in shock. "Let's stop this madness."  
  
"Yes—yes, let's," Emily managed to mumble before she seemingly fainted.  
  
Frank fell onto the bed while Alice re-lit the torches. Her lips had turned a funny shade of white in her concern. As soon as the flames were burning brightly once more, she pointed her wand at Harry and he fell gently back to the floor.  
  
"Who did that?" Lupin asked severely.  
  
"I did," Harry sputtered, "but let me explain! I don't know what happened. I'd been dangling up on the ceiling for a while, and then all the sudden my wand just erupted, but I didn't say any sort of curse or anything like that, and I didn't do anything, really, because I was just as shocked as any of you, really, I was, don't blame me, please, don't—"  
  
"Harry."  
  
"I swear I didn't do it on purpose, it was—"  
  
"Harry." Alice's voice was stern.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"We know you wouldn't do anything like that on purpose." Alice's hands were shaking so hard that she sat on them as she lowered herself onto the bed in a vain effort to control them. "You just ought to know that that, besides the Unforgivable Curses, that particular hex is one of the most feared. It can cause . . . unthinkable damage." She paused for a moment, and Harry's face drained of what little color was left in it. "It would have burnt down Hogwarts. It stops at nothing. It eats through stone . . . through steel . . . through anything in its path. And it can only be stopped by the counter-hex."  
  
Everyone was quiet for a moment.  
  
"That's all. You just ought to know." She sounded weary. "Now why don't we fix everyone up, and then you can all leave? Seeing as we're going to Hogsmeade tomorrow, we should all get our rest."  
  
"Yes," Lupin managed to stutter.  
  
Alice spent a moment taking the horns out of Emily's head, fixing the extra head that had sprouted out of Lupin's, and reversing all the spells that had caused anyone any damage.  
  
"Good night," she uttered in a tremulous voice as everyone filed out of the door.  
  
"Want me to help you straighten the room?" Harry asked somewhat awkwardly.  
  
"No, I can manage, Harry. Thank you." She smiled tiredly. "I'm just exhausted, otherwise I'd welcome your company. But tomorrow—we'll see plenty of each other tomorrow."  
  
"Yeah, I guess we will." Harry drew her into his arms and gave her a fierce kiss. After a moment, she drew away. "You're sure you can handle it all?" He surveyed the wreckage. Her room looked like several bombs had struck it: the floor was pocked with burn marks and was scuffed and dull, the furniture was streaked in the hues of the rainbow, her bed was hacked through the middle, and the small chandelier in the middle, which was set in a delicate golden design, was missing half of its crystal prisms.  
  
"I'm sure I can manage it," she said with a grim smile. She gave him a short but loving kiss. "Good night, Harry." Her eyes smiled at him, no matter how weary she looked.  
  
Harry turned to go out the door, but then remembered something. "Alice?"  
  
"Yes?" She had been replacing the boards in the floor with wood that spouted from her wand.  
  
"Your hair—"  
  
"I almost forgot!" she exclaimed, and pointed her wand at it. Its golden sheen replaced the dull green it had been.  
  
"Yeah, so . . . g'night." Harry left the room and closed the door behind him, the sound of crystals zooming around in the air filling his ears.  
  
  
  
"Remember," Professor McGonagall commanded wearily, "classes are only half-length today. Third years and above are allowed the customary pre- Christmas trip to Hogsmeade. Tomorrow is the start of break. Now enjoy your breakfast."  
  
Harry was sitting up at the staff table today, and McGonagall was seated next to him. "Is everything all right?" he inquired anxiously.  
  
"Oh, yeah, dandy," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her severe eyes behind their square rims looked too tired to be real. "Dumbledore's gone, Voldemort is once again on the loose, and I'm sending all the students off on a field trip!"  
  
"There now, Professor McGonagall," Harry murmured soothingly. "We'll look after them . . ."  
  
"I know, I know," she said irritably. "It's just that I'm not cut out for dealing with a school-full of under-aged wizards, and I think the stress is really getting to me."  
  
"Don't worry! Relax, have fun at Hogsmeade."  
  
"Fun, Harry? Fun hasn't been a part of my vocabulary since I began teaching at Hogwarts."  
  
Harry looked, really looked, at Professor McGonagall for the first time, and was shocked by what he saw. Why, she was an old woman! Her wiry black hair pulled back in its severe bun was streaked with white, and her face was lined around the eyes and mouth. Sadness, anger, and hardness veiled the eyes that always showed him such concern. Despite the harsh appearance, her shoulders were drooped and weary, and her hands looked much older than Harry had ever recalled seeing them look.  
  
"Why don't you stay here, take a day off?"  
  
"I wish I could, Harry, but they're my responsibility, whether I want them or not."  
  
"Come on, Professor," Harry insisted. "You need a break! Look at yourself. You must've lost twenty pounds since you've taken over for Dumbledore . . ."  
  
She sighed heavily. "Maybe you're right, Potter. But then who do I put in control? You and your group of friends want some time to relax, correct? So then who do I leave to look after the students?"  
  
"It's not like even you could keep an eye on hundreds of kids at once. Plenty of wizards live in Hogsmeade; there's nothing to worry about in an all-wizard community. Really, Professor McGonagall, take a break!"  
  
"Oh, all right," she said in resignation, "you win."  
  
"Good," Harry exclaimed. "Now eat something before you starve yourself to death. Then who would take over Hogwarts?"  
  
She smiled, as Harry hadn't seen her do in the longest of times, and ate the sausage on the plate before her ravenously.  
  
  
  
The sky was dark with angry, boiling thunderheads when the students finally arrived at Hogsmeade. Harry alighted from the horse-less carriage that also contained Alice and Ron. Lupin, Emily, and Frank had had to travel in another carriage.  
  
"Well, it does feel good to get out and stretch one's legs, does it not?" Alice asked, doing just that.  
  
Harry smiled in agreement, but personally thought it wonderful to just breathe fresh air and know that he had no worries, at least for this one evening.  
  
"Well, where to first?" Frank inquired as he lowered himself from a nearby carriage.  
  
"Well, perhaps The Three Broomsticks?" Harry suggested. "I don't know, what do you think?"  
  
"I think that sounds wonderful," Lupin exclaimed, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Let's go!"  
  
Glancing over his shoulder to make sure everyone was present, Harry and his friends headed off for the local bar. Harry's all-time favorite treat was butterbeer, a mildly alcoholic but very rich and tasty beverage.  
  
As the group stepped over the threshold, the atmosphere was noticeably warmer and rowdier. The bartender greeted them as they searched about for an empty seat. Already, a few Hogwarts students had found their way to the pub and settled down to a few rounds of butterbeer.  
  
Scanning the crowded room for an empty table, Harry almost dropped a small sack of galleons in surprise. Pushing his way through the melee, he made his way to a somewhat inconspicuous table in the back. "Sirius!" he hissed, just barely audible over the din.  
  
"Harry!" his godfather exclaimed, standing to embrace him shortly. Drawing away, he asked with some concern, "How are you?"  
  
"Well enough," he replied. The rest of the group had followed him and stood somewhat awkwardly about. All of them, that is, except Lupin.  
  
"Remus! Old Moony. How are you?" Sirius bellowed in his deep voice, shaking hands with one of his best friends from his old Hogwarts days. They were an odd-looking pair. Sirius was tall, dark, and appealingly thin. Lupin was thin and awkwardly bleached-looking, his hair noticeably graying despite his young age. The stress of his years as a werewolf had left their mark.  
  
"Fine, fine. How about you, Padfoot, you bloke?" Lupin was grinning from ear to ear.  
  
"I'm doing quite well. Got myself a job at the Ministry . . . I really enjoy myself nowadays."  
  
"That's good, that's good. So, what brings you to these parts?"  
  
"Well, I thought I'd surprise you and drop in for a holiday visit," Sirius admitted. "I thought I'd stay over the Christmas vacation. Is Minerva letting the students return to their homes for Christmas?" Sirius inquired anxiously.  
  
"I believe so . . ." Harry said, confused.  
  
"Dammit!"  
  
"What's wrong?" Emily asked, feeling perplexed.  
  
"Well, the Ministry just made a public announcement. No magical school is to release its students over the holidays."  
  
"What's the bloody Ministry making a move like that for?" questioned an outraged Ron. "So much for a little peace and quiet . . ."  
  
"Well, it's because of Voldemort." Sirius's eyes weren't laughing, for they rarely did. At least, not since he was wrongfully accused of the murder of thirteen people and thrown into Azkaban, the wizarding prison. His eyes had been haunted and shadowed ever since. But, particularly now, there seemed to be something lurking behind those dark doors which Harry had never seemed capable of penetrating.  
  
"Well, well, well, look at the little reunion." Malfoy's voice cut through the racket that the rowdy group of people was creating.  
  
"Malfoy, really, if you're not going to be pleasant, go away," Ron said in an exasperated voice.  
  
"Don't give me a chance, even, do you?" he drawled dully. "What if I say to you that I was going to be pleasant?"  
  
"I'd say you were lying." Lupin shot him a sharp look.  
  
"Oh, give him a chance!" Alice exclaimed.  
  
"Thank you," Malfoy said, turning to look at who had stepped in to save him. He gawked at her. "You're the one—"  
  
"Who you met in Diagon Alley at the beginning of the year that gave you a regretfully severe reprimand," she finished. "I apologize. I didn't need to be sharp."  
  
"No, no, no apology is needed," Malfoy said, waving off her apology.  
  
Harry and Ron looked at each other in disbelief. What had gotten into Malfoy?  
  
"How about some butterbeer?" Alice asked them all. "On me."  
  
"All right," Harry said reluctantly, sitting down beside her while trying to avoid being seated by Malfoy. Everyone else drew out a seat and sat down as well.  
  
"So, what brings you to these parts, Mr. Malfoy?" Lupin asked, settling down by Sirius.  
  
"Actually, Sirius and I had to come together. We're both in the Ministry," he explained, brushing some of his silvery-blonde hair from his gray eyes.  
  
"You're in the Ministry?" Ron looked unbelieving.  
  
"Yes, well, just because my father was a Death Eater doesn't mean that I must be, too. I follow a different set of beliefs." Malfoy's eyes showed plainly his injured pride. Quickly, he tried to change the topic. "So, Potter, you're a teacher?"  
  
"Yeah, History of Spells and Potions."  
  
"New subject, eh?"  
  
"Well, I suppose you can say so. Remember how dull History of Magic used to be?"  
  
Malfoy laughed darkly. "Jumping dragons, yes! That was the most terrible class . . . and the goblin uprising of 1638 was one of panic for all people of Semitosa, Ireland," he said in an uncanny impersonation of the old teacher, Professor Binns.  
  
Harry laughed. "Yeah, anyway, it's a decent subject, I suppose. We're performing a play after Christmas."  
  
"Interesting," Malfoy mused.  
  
Harry was shocked. Malfoy was actually being—pleasant.  
  
"Well," Ron prompted, "the whole Voldemort deal is interesting, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah, it is," Malfoy admitted. "We're really stumped on this one. You know, the whole thing is somewhat confusing. I heard about the clearing in the Forbidden Forest"—he glanced meaningfully at Ron—"and I must admit, it's got every sign of being a Voldemort attack. Especially those that he's afflicted . . . who are currently being held at the Ministry . . . appears he wants more followers, so he's using the Unforgivable Curses again."  
  
"Ummm . . ." Alice looked eager to change the subject, as did Ron, who's pale face was blazing with hatred for the Dark Lord.  
  
"Looks like the butterbeer is here," Frank interrupted, smiling at the waitress. "Thank you . . ." he mumbled, searching his deep pockets for two galleons and five sickles.  
  
"I said I was paying, remember?" Alice said crossly, handing the smiling witch the money, as well as a three-galleon tip. "Honestly . . ."  
  
"Sorry, sorry, I forgot," Frank muttered apologetically.  
  
"Yeah, sure you did," Lupin said, rolling his eyes. "Although I, too, would like to pay for my own drink."  
  
"My God, can't any of you take a favor every now and then?" she asked incredulously. "I mean, it's the least I can do, to buy you a bloody butterbeer, when you gave me my magic back."  
  
Harry had never seen her look so outraged. Her nostrils were flared, her eyes were bulging, and her hands were akimbo.  
  
"Well excuse us," Harry said. "Pay for the little drinks, by all means."  
  
"Fine then, I will," she retorted, taking a vengeful sip of peppermint tea.  
  
"Oh yeah, you don't drink," Harry mumbled.  
  
"Problem with that?" she asked him.  
  
"No." Harry was glaring at her.  
  
"Jumping dragons, you two, it's a couple of butterbeers, for crying out loud! Take it easy!" Sirius exclaimed.  
  
"I'm sorry," Alice mumbled. "It's just . . . never mind."  
  
"All right then, let's put it all behind us. Make up?" Alice gave Harry a pleading look.  
  
"Sure," Harry agreed, putting out a hand for her to shake. Laughing, she accepted it and shook vigorously.  
  
"For a couple, you two aren't very intimate," Emily giggled.  
  
"Yeah, you two, kiss and make up," Ron said with a wicked smile.  
  
Alice gazed wide-eyed at Harry. "Really, with all these kids mulling about in here . . ."  
  
"Oh, come on, Alice, one quick peck won't hurt you."  
  
"Yeah, one quick peck . . ." she sighed. "You're about as capable at one quick peck as you are at losing to Voldemort . . ."  
  
Harry grinned and leaned closer to her. She gave him an amused, begrudging smile, and just as their lips were about to touch—  
  
"Really, Harry, with everyone watching us?" she exclaimed, pulling abruptly away.  
  
Harry, and the other occupants of their table, laughed softly. "Alice, really, it's a kiss."  
  
"All right . . ." she murmured, "for you."  
  
Harry and she both leaned inward, then, and their lips met briefly. Alice was about to pull back when she found Harry's lips upon hers again. Pulling away briefly once more, she discovered that Harry had his arm around her neck, and she could not escape. With an amused glare, she finally allowed him to kiss her, and they didn't stop until they both needed air.  
  
Both pulled away, each looking deep into each other's eyes. It was then that they realized how quiet the room had grown.  
  
"Whoo-hoo!" The students present burst into wild applause and catcalls.  
  
Alice gave Harry a somewhat embarrassed smile and blushed a pretty shade of pink, but managed to hold herself together.  
  
"Was that so bad?" Harry questioned gently.  
  
"Well, Professor McGonagall will think so. You know how she feels about teacher-teacher relationships . . ."  
  
"Oh. I forgot about that." Harry remembered how strictly Professor McGonagall had preached the new staff about the damage inter-staff relationships could cause the students. "I don't quite understand it, however."  
  
"Neither do I." Emily shrugged.  
  
"Hmmmm . . . well, let's changed the subject, shall we?" Lupin asked.  
  
"Good idea." Sirius looked thoughtful. "I was wondering . . ."  
  
"Yes?" Ron prompted.  
  
"Well, I was going to stay at the Tansy Tavern tonight. I was wondering if, you were not going to be missed too much, perhaps you may want to join me?"  
  
"Well, someone would have to deliver your message about the cancellation of the winter holiday," Alice pointed out. "Also, we'd have to be back in time for any announcements over breakfast . . . but why not?"  
  
"Would we each get a separate room? That wouldn't be any fun," Emily whined.  
  
"I think that they have a room with five beds. If we doubled up, I don't think it would be a problem."  
  
"Yeah, that would work," Ron quipped.  
  
"Good evening," a rather cold voice said. Everyone looked up to see the speaker.  
  
"Good evening, Severus," Alice mumbled demurely with a nod of acknowledgement.  
  
"Mind if I join you?" Harry noticed that Snape's hair was no longer long and greasy, but actually trimmed to a decent-looking length and clean. What was going on?  
  
"What were you talking about?" Snape's voice revealed a genuine interest in the subject.  
  
"Well, we were talking about spending the night in Hogsmeade," Sirius said coldly. He had never gotten along well with Snape, even in their schoolboy days.  
  
"You could join us," Ron added. "There are only eight of us, and the room we were going to reserve has five beds. As long as we all double up . . ."  
  
Snape thought the matter over for a moment. "Okay."  
  
"Well," Lupin exclaimed. He, too, had had a hard time befriending Snape as a student at Hogwarts. He, Sirius, and Harry's father, James, had always been makers of mischief together. And Snape always seemed to ruin their fun. Other than that, however, Lupin remained quiet.  
  
Alice sighed. "Now what do you want to do?"  
  
"Well, Hogsmeade, unlike Hogwarts, has electricity," Sirius stated. "So maybe we could go see one of your Muggle movies?"  
  
"What's a movie?" Draco asked, clearly puzzled.  
  
Ron grinned. "A Muggle invention, isn't it, Harry? Isn't it like a book with visuals or something?"  
  
"You'll see. Come on, let's see what shows there are!"  
  
"Shows? What's a show?" Malfoy pleaded. Alice just laughed. "You'll soon find out." She took his arm and led him out of The Three Broomsticks.  
  
  
  
Gone With the Wind was the only show that was of any interest to the group of friends. Alice spent eleven sickles admission on each of them. Once inside the dimly lit theatre, they made their way to the concession stand.  
  
"Whoa, this is odd," Malfoy muttered, his eyes roving over everything.  
  
"Just wait until you see the movie screen!" Harry added. Seeing the questioning look in Malfoy's eyes, he quickly amended, "Never mind, you'll find out in a minute."  
  
"Ah, and a movie is not a movie without popcorn," Alice proclaimed. She bought each of them a Coke and a bucket of popcorn, too. "I can't believe they sell Muggle food at a theatre located in a magical town," she expressed gleefully. "I haven't been to a movie in ages. Not since I came to Hogwarts!"  
  
"Calm down, for the sake of all of us," Harry said. "It's just a movie. It's still twenty minutes until the movie starts. Let's sit down in the theatre."  
  
But all their wizard friends were quite intrigued with the concept, and refused to 'calm down.' Once seated within the theatre, all of them bombarded Harry and Alice with a seemingly endless load of questions.  
  
"What's that?" Ron requested, pointing to the large screen.  
  
"It's the screen," Harry answered shortly.  
  
"How about that?" Emily announced, citing the projector in the back.  
  
"That's what the film is fed through," Alice explained. "Then the movie shows up on the screen."  
  
Ten minutes before the show began, the previews started. Sirius nearly fell out of his seat. "Jumping dragons!" he shouted. "What's going on?"  
  
"Shhhh, it's the previews," Alice patiently informed. "They show what movies are showing soon. And you really must make a point of being quiet. Other people are in the theatre, too."  
  
The next four hours were filled with the laughter of wizards, saying, "What will these Muggles think of next?" and "What queer customs these Americans have," and "How odd the Muggles act!" Alice tried not to giggle at their antics.  
  
"How ridiculous they sound," she whispered to Harry.  
  
"Yes, well, it may be a very intriguing story, but I must admit that I do see their point."  
  
They left the theatre around ten, but none of them were tired yet. Lupin, Sirius, Snape, Malfoy, Emily, Ron, and Frank were still flinging question after unending question at Harry and Alice.  
  
"Did that really happen? Did the American Muggles really shoot off those funny metal wands at each other?" Snape scoffed.  
  
"Yes, they did," Alice said. "The American Civil War. Foolish, really, for the Southerners really stood no chance against the well- equipped Northerners. However, their proclamation of Sates' Rights made sense."  
  
"Hmmm, very well," Frank reflected. "Much like the American Revolution . . . really, you Americans are a touchy lot."  
  
"Well!" Alice sputtered, holding herself straight. Luckily, she decided to say nothing in return.  
  
"Now what shall we do?" Emily intoned. "More Muggle things? Really, they do know how to get their kicks."  
  
"Well, what other amusements are to be found in Hogsmeade?" Malfoy prompted.  
  
"Well, we've been to The Three Broomsticks," droned Frank. "We've also seen the movie. There's a dance floor, and—oh! Sirius, the students will be heading back any minute. Shouldn't we send word with one of the teachers?"  
  
"Yes, well, I'll go tell Professor Sprout that the students are to remain on campus during the holidays. I will also inform her that you are all staying over night." He hightailed back for the carriages. Seeing as the crowds in the streets were already dwindling, Harry deduced that most of the students were already loaded into the carriages. He prayed hurriedly that Sirius would be able to relay the message to someone.  
  
"So, to continue your list, Frank," Lupin prompted.  
  
"Well, I suppose we could stop by the joke shop and just look around, or we could stroll along by the river that winds about a mile east of here, or perhaps hike up Poignant Peak, the nearby mountain, or there's a shop full of the fashionable clothing of the wizarding community . . . or we could just go straight to the hotel. Find something to do there."  
  
"Hmmm . . . what do you think, Malfoy?" Alice asked.  
  
"I vote dancing," he replied. "I haven't done that for a while."  
  
"I want to our little inn or whatever you'd call the place," Snape admitted. "I don't remember the last time I got a decent night's rest."  
  
"Yeah, let's go to the Tansy Tavern. I'm spent." Harry looked it, too. Alice's forehead creased with worry.  
  
"Are you okay?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah, fine. Just need some sleep . . ." Without warning, he collapsed. Alice knelt by his side, her skirts trailing in the patches of mud left in the icy streets. Biting her lip, she slid one thin arm under his legs and the other behind his back. Ron moved forward to help; she looked too delicate to lift a housecat. But obviously, there was more to her strength than physical appearances allowed seen, for she managed to lift him, though her arms shook noticeably.  
  
"I'll meet you at the tavern," she managed to hiss between gritted teeth. "Room 50A."  
  
"Yes, all right. We'll be there in a few moments. As soon as Sirius returns," Frank assured her.  
  
But Alice was already stumbling through the street and toward their lodging.  
  
  
  
"He's burning up," Alice reflected.  
  
"But he's shivering!" Malfoy pointed out.  
  
"The thermometer says his temperature is 103.5," Emily whispered, her dark face wan.  
  
The others sat on the queen beds in the room, looking with unconcealed anxiety at Harry's prone figure, which was nearly hidden under a mass of blankets and pillows. He lay trembling, his eyes shut, his face white, but with an exaggerated rosy glow to his cheeks.  
  
"Just a fever," Sirius insisted, though he didn't sound any too certain.  
  
"Should we summon a doctor?" Lupin queried.  
  
"No," Alice said wearily. "Do any of you have a cauldron?"  
  
"Yes," Snape divulged as he went to a sack, which he'd carried with him all day.  
  
"Thank you," she murmured, lighting a small stove with a flick of her wand. She took the worn leather pouch that she'd shown to Harry on the train to Hogwarts. It seemed so long ago! Wearily, she set to work drawing the necessary ingredients from it.  
  
"A pinch of flodgeworm brain, powdered; a twig of lupine; a teaspoon of ginseng extract; a fresh toad liver; and the wart of a cow of two years," she muttered to herself, adding the ingredients to the cauldron.  
  
When it was done stewing, she drained the oozing tonic into a glass, which she found on the chipped porcelain sink, and handed it to Malfoy. He held his nose; it did possess an unusually strong odor.  
  
"I'm going to hold his head up," Alice instructed, "while you pour the potion down his throat. Ready?" she inquired, holding Harry's mouth slightly open.  
  
"I suppose," Malfoy returned, looking utterly disgusted as he poured the slimy mixture down his mouth. "What's it supposed to do, anyhow?"  
  
"Well, it's supposed to help cool the body," she replied. "Reduce fever and all that."  
  
"Hmph," Malfoy snorted. "All that would do would be to make me utterly nauseous!"  
  
"Hmmm, guess it could do that too," Alice admitted. They all fell silent for several minutes as Alice held a thermometer in Harry's mouth. Ron leaned over.  
  
"Incredible," he breathed. "His temperature is falling visibly . . ."  
  
Harry gave a sudden, loud sputter that sent Emily backward with a startled squeak. Swallowing once or twice, he gave a long, drawn out exhalation and quite startlingly sat bolt upright in bed. "Let's go out and do something!" he exclaimed. "Come on . . . let's have fun while we're not in the castle!"  
  
Alice laughed. "It also tends to overexcite the person on whom it is used," she informed everybody. "Yet I think it best you to stay here, Harry, for a while, seeing as you did have a frighteningly high fever. Anyone else, however, who wishes to go out for a bit of fun ought to take advantage of the opportunity."  
  
"Oh come on, I really want to get out of here and do something," Harry complained, pushing back the coverlet that Alice had draped over him.  
  
"I'll stay with you, Harry," Ron said. "I don't mind. And it's really been ages since we've sat down like old times and just talked to one another, even if we do share your bedroom right now." Ron was bunked out on a couch that Alice had Apparated for him.  
  
"Yeah, alright." Harry unwillingly accepted the offer. Then his face brightened visibly. "Wait! Alice, you know what I've always wanted to do?"  
  
"Yes," she replied, heaving a sigh.  
  
"Yeah, well, you would," Harry continued. "Anyhow, I've always wanted to go inside your mind. Just for a few moments. I just want to see what it's like, to know everything about everyone."  
  
"You couldn't handle it," she said frankly.  
  
"But I could! Couldn't we all handle it?" Harry asked the others. Frank looked skeptical, Sirius looked thoughtful, and Snape looked plainly doubtful.  
  
"Come on, just for a minute," Harry pleaded.  
  
"All right, but don't blame me if you end up with a terrible headache." Alice sat down on the bed, beside Harry, and clasped his hand. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she took a deep breath and muttered something incoherent.  
  
Immediately, Harry was thrown into a more chaotic world than he had ever thought possible. Thoughts zoomed around in his mind faster than he could process them. Briefly, he recognized events as they whirred by in a sickening blur: a man in China was dying of malnutrition, a child in South Africa was playing with the mud outside her hut, a teacher in America was grading test papers (he thought they could be history reports, but he wasn't sure). The thoughts didn't stop coming. They kept rushing at him, hitting him full-force and without mercy. One after the other after the other, they kept up a steady fusillade of mind-boggling snippets of thoughts, happenings, and various texts.  
  
"My God, make it stop," Harry managed to moan between it all.  
  
And as suddenly as it began, it was gone. His own thoughts seemed lethargic and petty compared to all that which had been going through the head of the concerned-looking woman sitting next to him.  
  
"Are you all right, Harry?" she questioned, looking into his face with luminous, violet eyes.  
  
"Fine, fine . . . just a pounding headache," he muttered, holding his head between his hands as though it were ready to explode.  
  
"Anyone else wish to try?" she asked congenially, looking around the others present. They shook their heads mutually.  
  
"Well, then, I suppose it best that we prepare to leave," Malfoy proclaimed, making a pair of ice skates appear in the air before him.  
  
"Good idea," Lupin agreed emphatically.  
  
The group bustled about, readying themselves for the biting cold out- of-doors. Finally, they were ready to leave.  
  
"Goodbye, boys. We'll be back in a bit," Emily shouted over her shoulder as she closed the door behind the last of them.  
  
"Well, now we're alone," Ron said after a rather uncomfortable silence.  
  
"Yeah, I guess we are."  
  
Silence again.  
  
"You know," Ron exploded, "we really oughtn't be so awkward with one another! We're best friends. I don't know why we can't talk to one another."  
  
"I agree." Harry was biting his lip thoughtfully.  
  
"I mean, just because Hermione is being held under Voldemort's power because Voldemort is using the Unforgivable Curses does not mean that we should let that come between us. Heaven knows, I was under it for a while."  
  
"Was that what happened to you that day?" Harry asked, quite interested.  
  
"Yes. But that was the odd thing. It must've been a Death Eater acting under Voldemort's orders, because it wasn't his voice. It sounded disguised. Husky and deep, somewhat forced," Ron admitted slowly.  
  
"So why did you get released when . . . well, when Hermione and the others were not?"  
  
"I suppose Voldemort realized he didn't want, or need, me to be out of the way. I mean, Hermione poses a major threat, since she knows so much. But wouldn't he also want to get Alice out of the way?"  
  
"No, not necessarily. I believe, actually, that he wants to kill the both of us. I mean, Alice and myself. What else could he possibly want? Once the two of us are out of the way, he's got nothing to stop him. What puzzles me is that if he doesn't hesitate to play dirty, why doesn't he just get rid of the both of us using a curse and move on with his plans?"  
  
"Because he wants to be able to say that he defeated the both of you. The two most famous, evil-fighting witch and wizard in the world. And probably in all of history. I think it all makes sense," Ron stated.  
  
"I suppose so. Well, what about jobs? What were you doing before you came here? Did you get a job selling Quidditch supplies?"  
  
They spent a good hour conversing and laughing, just like they used to do. In the middle of a match of wizarding chess, the door flew open quite abruptly. An extremely white-faced Lupin stood in the doorframe, a slight breeze stirring his graying hair.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked, a chill sweep of dread sweeping over him as a terrible sense of foreboding swept over him.  
  
"We are needed back at the castle immediately," Lupin finally managed to croak. "A student has been abducted." 


	13. Holiday Festivities

Harry Potter and the Crystal Ball  
  
by Hannah  
  
Okay, so this story struggles b/c I haven't worked on it in like, two years, and it's never been proofread, so do forgive . . . anyway, check out my other story, under Originals, called Saraella, b/c in my mind it is far superior, and if you need anything e-mail me at fiddle_d_d@bolt.com. Thanks for reading! :0)  
  
Chapter Thirteen ~ Holiday Festivities  
  
Ron accidentally swept a few chess pieces off the board. A rather disgruntled knight picked up his arm, which had broken off, and hopped away to sulk under the bed.  
  
Stunned beyond words, Harry managed to sputter, "Wh-wh-who? When? What House?"  
  
"Who else but a Slytherin?" Lupin said, obviously in a bad temper. "We'd just arrived at the lake when one of the teachers came bustling over. Of course, we thought it odd that they hadn't left already, seeing as they'd planned on doing so well over an hour ago. Anyhow, she told us that one of the Slytherins was missing and that they were searching all over the town. She said that McGonagall wanted to hold a meeting immediately back at Hogwarts, and that all teachers were to attend. Apparently the professors have given up search in Hogsmeade, although residents are still to remain on the lookout. Meanwhile, all the students were being hustled back to the castle when I Apparated over here to tell you."  
  
Harry cleared his throat. "Well, I don't know what we're waiting for, then. Let's go."  
  
The three of them Disapparated together, and found themselves in the entrance hall to Hogwarts. "Same little spot that Alice led us that one time?" Ron asked quietly.  
  
"Yeah, I guess. That seems to be where all of the 'top secret' teacher meetings are," Harry replied softly. They set off through the labyrinth of passageways and staircases that made up Hogwarts' castle.  
  
Finally, they arrived at the rug that concealed the little cubbyhole that the faculty coveted for their private affairs.  
  
Upon entering, the soft greenish glow that emanated from the walls illuminated all too well the terrified faces of the staff.  
  
"—what to do," McGonagall was whispering hoarsely, her face a ghastly shade of white. Alice was already sitting there, patting McGonagall's hand in a very matronly way. She didn't look at all concerned. On the contrary, she looked quite angry.  
  
"Don't let it bother you so," she spat bitterly. Everyone assembled turned to stare at her.  
  
"Well, you'd know," Professor Flitwick admitted.  
  
"Trust me, don't worry about it," Alice cajoled. "And I will beat the hell out of that kid once he comes back." Her eyes contained a strange murderous glint that sent chills down Harry's spine.  
  
"No need to go that far, Alice, I'm sure," Frank said, looking nervous.  
  
"Oh, I didn't mean for you to take it literally," Alice corrected flatly. "Although it would be nice . . . No, but that kid had better have a good excuse lined up."  
  
"Hmm, interesting," Snape mused. "However, the more immediate problem is finding him. I know the kid, of course, seeing as he's in my House. Jason Flitcher. A very—problematic child. A sixth year, I believe? Anyhow, no matter, we must send out search parties, regardless of your doubts, Miss Oak. For if the papers ever got wind of our ignoring the disappearance of a student—regardless of your adamant objections as to the relevancy of sending out a search party, Alice—Hogwarts would never hear the end of it."  
  
"Quite true," Harry agreed readily.  
  
"Well then," McGonagall sighed, "I suppose we ought to partner up and begin the search? We need Heads of House to stay with the students, of course. The rest of you, choose a partner and state your intentions as to the whereabouts of the search. Heads of House, you may go." McGonagall dismissed them with a weary nod of her head.  
  
Harry and Alice set off down the hallway together, headed back for the Gryffindor Common Room.  
  
"So you're performing a play with your seventh years, are you?" Alice asked.  
  
"Yes, we decided it would be a much more interesting way of learning about some of the important figures. We were originally just going to perform a play about one of them, but later we decided that we should role- play. I assigned each student a famous witch or wizard and asked them to write a short soliloquy on the spells and potions that that particular person was responsible for creating. We're performing it on Christmas Eve."  
  
"How intriguing . . . my students are also going to do something for the school," Alice said.  
  
"Really, what?" Harry questioned, quite interested in the subject.  
  
"Well, seeing as my class is Defense Against the Dark Arts, I decided that they ought to get a little more one-on-one experience," she explained. "So I've arranged for a Quidditch match."  
  
"A Quidditch match? I'm afraid I don't understand," Harry admitted, somewhat baffled.  
  
"Well, not an ordinary Quidditch match," Alice said as they rounded a corner. "Teachers versus students, but with some . . . obstacles."  
  
"Obstacles as in . . . Dark Arts obstacles?" Harry ventured.  
  
"Yes. Some creatures, perhaps, a few curses . . . maybe a potion or two. And, of course, I was anxious to speak to you about it," Alice chirped, "because I wanted you to be the Seeker for the teachers' team."  
  
"Sure, fine, fine," Harry agreed. He hadn't played Quidditch for far too long, and would welcome the opportunity gladly. "How about you?" he asked. "Are you going to play a position?"  
  
She nodded emphatically. "Keeper," she said shortly. They had reached the Fat Lady. "Razalas," she muttered off-handedly, waiting for the door to swing open.  
  
All the students were waiting for them. Crowded around the small portrait hole, they bombarded the two teachers with an unending stream of questions.  
  
"Is he okay?"  
  
"Have they found him?"  
  
"Did Voldemort kill him?"  
  
"Is he going to get into trouble?"  
  
"Please, calm down, there's nothing to be excited about," Alice assured them as she leapt agilely from the opening. Harry followed her silently. The potion that Alice had administered was now beginning to show its effects. He felt extremely drowsy. Of course, Alice hadn't told him about that part of the medication. He supposed that she must've mixed up a double potion: one to reduce fever and increase one's sleepiness. Obviously, with her omnipotence, she would be aware of the fact that he snored.  
  
The students all made disappointed discourse. "Nothing? Nothing at all?" seemed to be the mutual question.  
  
"Nothing of any relevant interest has happened," Harry intoned, lowering himself wearily into one of the over-stuffed armchairs. Alice did likewise. Sighing heavily, she blatantly refused to answer the questions the students continued to throw at them. Eventually, they tired of their attempts to get their stone-faced professor to speak and scurried off to their dorms.  
  
Alice and Harry just sat quietly for a while, Harry staring moodily into the fire, his eyelids steadily drooping more and more noticeably, and Alice gazing thoughtfully out the window, her eyes seeming to see past the snow that fairly blotted all else from view.  
  
"We'll have to go back to Hogsmeade over the break," Alice said somewhat suddenly, startling Harry from his reverie. The fire crackled in the background.  
  
"Yeah, I suppose so," he agreed.  
  
"There's no way that we can have the break without some deviation from the norm," she continued.  
  
"True, true," Harry allowed. He was looking into the fire once again. He could hardly keep his eyes open.  
  
"Tired?" Alice inquired.  
  
"Yes. What dratted sort of sleeping potion did you give me?"  
  
"Sorry about that," she said, cringing. "It's just that you would've never gone to sleep had I not given it to you. That cooling potion also has the effect of rejuvenating the person on whom it was used to an extraordinary extent."  
  
"Well, very well. I think it best that I go to bed. If I don't, I'm likely to fall asleep right here."  
  
"Yes, good idea," Alice muttered absently, once again staring fixedly out the window.  
  
"Yes, well, er—good night," Harry mumbled. He made his way out of the portrait hole.  
  
For a few moments' time, Alice remained glued to her chair, gazing out into the darkness that swirled about Hogwarts. Finally, she gave a small shudder, as though chilled, and blinked several times. Another fit. Glad that no one could see her face paling and her eyes dilating, she scurried from the room and ran post-haste for her bedroom, her teeth bringing blood to her lower lip.  
  
  
  
It was apparent to Harry that Alice had had another of her attacks the previous evening. Her eyes were once again framed by their purple bags, and he could just make out a small scab on her lower lip. Her hands didn't appear particularly steady as she shoveled sausage and eggs around her plate, hardly touching any of it.  
  
"So, Harry, your play is tomorrow evening?" Sirius asked.  
  
"Yeah, we have a dress rehearsal tonight," he replied. "But I'd rather you just skip the rehearsal and see the actual performance. It will be more enjoyable that way."  
  
"Of course," Lupin said in agreement, lifting a forkful of scrambled eggs to his parted lips.  
  
"And when is your . . . unique Quidditch Tournament going to be held, Alice?" Harry asked, fishing for some other topic of discussion.  
  
Alice swallowed a mouthful of water and winced. She rasped, "Hopefully on Christmas Eve." She nearly interrupted herself with a sputtering cough.  
  
"You have a cold!" Emily exclaimed with evident worry. "We shouldn't have gone off to the lake, with it being so cold and damp—"  
  
"Nonsense." Alice interrupted impatiently, and continued by croaking, "It's still five days away. I'm sure that I will be well by that time. It's merely a sore throat."  
  
Harry figured that that could very well be the case, but also knew that if it were anything more serious, Alice would hold it back from him. It was her nature.  
  
The breakfast passed quite uneventfully, as did most of the afternoon. Alice was reading a mystery story, Harry was talking animatedly with Sirius and Lupin, and Malfoy, Frank, Emily, and Ron were holding a mini chess tournament.  
  
"It's so wonderful to see you again, Sirius!" Lupin exclaimed. He was positively beaming.  
  
"I know! There's so much to catch up on . . ."  
  
Alice put down her book with a sigh. "Time passes far too quickly," she whispered in a crackly voice.  
  
"You have no idea," Sirius agreed. And then added, "Well, I guess you do . . . my God, the whole concept of knowing everything is baffling."  
  
Harry and Lupin nodded in unison. Ron and Frank looked up from their chess game. Apparently, they were the champions. Emily and Malfoy were watching them play. It was rather obvious that Frank was losing to Ron. He looked relieved at the opportunity to rest from the game.  
  
"Let's do something else," Emily suggested.  
  
"Like what? Alice is sick. She can't go outside. Unless she cures herself," Malfoy pointed out.  
  
"You go ahead," she encouraged. "I rather enjoy being sick every now and then."  
  
"Why?" Frank looked absolutely baffled.  
  
"Because, it reminds me how lucky I am when I'm not ill." Alice smiled sweetly.  
  
"All right . . . but really, that is just too weird. I don't really know what we can do, anyhow," Lupin said.  
  
"Let's just get on some broomsticks and play around," Malfoy suggested. "I haven't been on mine since we graduated."  
  
"Wonderful idea! Some of us will need practice for Alice's Quidditch match," Emily exclaimed.  
  
The group made their way out to the field, where they played broomstick tag for several hours. Harry's stomach then gave a horrendous rumble.  
  
"Must've missed dinner," Sirius said, glancing at a pocket watch that he produced from a pocket in his robe.  
  
"Oh my!" Harry shouted, touching down on the snow-filled field. He began to run back toward the castle, his breath suspended in front of him in a miniature cloud.  
  
"What is it?" Emily asked shrilly.  
  
Glancing back over his shoulder just long enough to reply, Harry's voice was whipped about by the wind as he practically screamed, "I forgot about the dress rehearsal! I'll see you back in the common room! I'll—" The wind suddenly picked up gusto, and no one could hear anything more.  
  
Frank reasonably assessed the situation. "Well, we may as well stop by the kitchen and see if we can pick up any leftover morsels. Then we can go back to the common room and keep Alice company. Harry will show up sooner or later."  
  
  
  
McGonagall burst into Gryffindor's common room. She was panting for air as she leaned against the side of the portrait hole, and she looked very angry and agitated. All the students backed away in anticipation of one of her well-known lectures.  
  
"Alice? Where's Alice?" she asked, when she was finally capable of breathing again.  
  
"I don't know . . . in one of the girls' dorms, I think. She's not feeling well," one of the boys explained.  
  
"Could someone go get her? It's urgent." Her face looked thunderous, and several girls started up the stairs at once to accomplish her biding. She did not look like she was to be reckoned with.  
  
Alice slowly made her way down the stairs a minute or two later. Her face looked pale and pinched. Suddenly, for some reason, McGonagall felt a twinge of something. She shook it off. It couldn't be a premonition . . . she was just angry.  
  
"Alice, come quickly. The little Slytherin who disappeared just . . . well, reappeared."  
  
She smiled grimly. "I'll enjoy this," she rasped hoarsely.  
  
"So will I," McGonagall agreed, assisting Alice through the portrait hole. "Of course, you were right. The only thing the child needs is a good thrashing."  
  
"Yes, well . . . Jason Flitcher will never again do anything so foolish or cruel again."  
  
McGonagall led Alice to the Staff Room, where a rather heavyset boy with wispy brown hair sat in the midst of most of the staff. Snape was looking particularly murderous. As they entered, Alice could hear him screaming, "Do you know what this means? I'm going to have to take points from our own House! How excruciatingly embarrassing! A hundred points from Slytherin, and detention for a month. No, don't you dare say a word. Not one word, do you hear me? Now here's McGonagall. Show her that we Slytherins have at least some principals."  
  
"Doubtful, though it would be pleasant to see." McGonagall's face was very severe as she approached the boy. "Now where were you?"  
  
"Really, I don't see why everyone is taking this whole thing so far." The boy rolled his pale green eyes dramatically. "I was only in the Forbidden Forest, looking around, and I got lost. I mean, it's not like Voldemort abducted me or anything."  
  
"In these treacherous times, anything could happen!" McGonagall flung back, looking thoroughly murderous. Her chest was heaving as she fought to keep hold of what little was left of her temper.  
  
"So I can't even take a short walk without everyone completely freaking out?" He looked skeptical.  
  
Frank tried a more peaceful route. "The Forbidden Forest is . . . well, forbidden anyhow. You shouldn't have been there in the first place. What Professor, or Headmistress, McGonagall was trying to say was that with Voldemort running on the loose, we need to take every possible precaution."  
  
McGonagall's eye twitched violently. "Detention! Suspension! Expulsion!"  
  
"Now, now, Professor—" Flitwick said timidly, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder.  
  
"No! This child is being—is being—"  
  
"Dammit, listen!" Alice exclaimed in a harsh whisper. "The child wasn't right in wandering about in the Forbidden Forest. That is usually punishable by detention. Also, he's infuriated McGonagall, who is already under too much stress with the current situation. But suspension and expulsion are out of the question. If the Ministry is too scared to let the students go off on vacation, what makes you think they'll let you send the kid home for good? I say a week's worth of detentions cleaning bedpans in the school infirmary."  
  
The student nodded in agreement. As long as he didn't have to face McGonagall's wrath, any arrangement, no matter how vile, would be fine!  
  
"Settled." McGonagall slumped into a chair. "You're all dismissed. Except Alice, I'd like a word with you."  
  
"Of course." Everyone filed from the room, except Alice and Harry. Harry hesitated; was McGonagall going to loose her temper at Alice? Alice saw him hesitate and gesticulated for him to leave with a sweep of her hand. He slowly closed the door and waited in the hallway, expecting to hear McGonagall's ranting at any moment. Oddly, he heard nothing.  
  
After a few minutes, the door opened again. Alice and McGonagall walked out into the hall, and, smiling, McGonagall gave Alice a hug. "Thank you," she said as they pulled apart. "I don't know how I'm going to get through all of this!"  
  
"You will," Alice croaked. "Don't worry about it. Everything will be fine."  
  
She smiled and waved as they walked down opposite ends of the corridor. Harry popped out from behind a statue. "What was all of that about?" he demanded.  
  
"She's under a lot of stress. She doesn't feel capable of handling this whole mess. She's certain Dumbledore could do it better."  
  
"Oh."  
  
They walked in silence to Alice's door. She said the password and the wall gaped before her. "Good night, Harry," she said, planting a quick kiss on his forehead.  
  
"Good night," Harry replied. "Get well soon."  
  
"I'm sure I will." She walked through the portal and the wall closed behind her. Harry walked back to his room and tried to fall asleep. But he was too worried about the play the next evening.  
  
  
  
"Just remember to take deep breaths and speak clearly." Harry could hardly speak himself as he addressed his students. The performance was only thirty minutes away. "I know you'll do fine." As a matter of fact, he wasn't at all certain. He was extremely nervous. What if someone just wanted to mess it up, for the fun of it? Oh God, if I start thinking of everything that can go wrong I'll go crazy, he told himself.  
  
The room was dark. Harry remembered the time in his fourth year that he had been in this exact same room, with the other school champions, nervously awaiting the announcement of the first task. The year that Voldemort returned. An involuntary shiver traced its way down his spine. He wouldn't think of that now.  
  
Suddenly, through the open window, a small object whooshed into the room. Harry started, and then realized that it was only Hedwig. She dropped a small, folded piece of parchment into his lap, and then flew right back out again. Probably to hunt mice.  
  
Ripping the golden seal apart (it was Alice's': AHO encompassed in a circle of stars), he read the short note appreciatively.  
  
Good luck, Harry! I know you'll do just fine. Don't give the performance a second thought.  
  
XO Alice  
  
Smiling, Harry folded the letter and stuck it into one of the pockets in his black dress robes. If Alice said there was nothing to worry about, then he shouldn't trouble himself.  
  
"Psst, Harry," Frank hissed, poking his head through the doorway. A narrow triangle of light cut a path through the room.  
  
"Yeah?" he asked.  
  
"Show time. Break a leg." With a smile, he backed out of the doorframe.  
  
"All right, just remember everything we've done thus far," Harry reminded his students, throwing the door wide open.  
  
A small sting quartet struck up a frenzy of music as the students filed out, garbed in various attire from a wide range of time periods. Ioma Bidmin Peroipritandtabaygode, Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, and Albus Dumbledore were just a few of the better-known witches and wizards represented.  
  
Alice had been correct. The play went from opening curtain to the curtain drop with nary a mishap. The audience, which consisted of every student and teacher, was wild with applause. Beaming with pride for his students, Harry ducked back into the back room, where the cast was gathered.  
  
"Congratulations! You were all wonderful," Harry exclaimed in genuine excitement. "Great job! Oh, well done!"  
  
They all went back out into the Great Hall for a final round of applause, and then joined their tables for a late celebratory supper. Alice grinned at Harry. "They were excellent," she informed him. It would seem that she had gotten over her cold, for her voice had returned to its usual flowing American alto.  
  
"Thank you," Harry said, blushing slightly. All the other teachers rushed over to congratulate him as well.  
  
Sighing contentedly that evening in bed, Harry's mind wandered to other things. Classes were over until after New Year's, which was still more than a week away. The next major event would be Alice's Quidditch game.  
  
He hadn't been aware of the fact that she played Quidditch. He wondered if she was any good at the game. It must've been hard on her, to be at Hogwarts for four years and never have been allowed to participate in any such activities. She couldn't go to Hogsmeade, she couldn't attend Quidditch games, she couldn't participate in the feasts and celebrations . . .  
  
Or did she? Maybe she'd had an invisibility cloak. Whole new horizons were visible with that possibility. He wondered if she'd ever noticed him. He dismissed that thought immediately. Of course she had. Not to be vain, but he was Harry Potter, one of the most renowned wizards of all time. Of course she'd noticed him.  
  
But I shouldn't worry myself over what's to come tomorrow or the next day or the next, Harry firmly told himself. What is to come is to come, and I can't do a thing about it. With this final thought, he fell asleep.  
  
  
  
Christmas Eve, like all the other chilly winter days, began dank and gray. Harry and Alice were eagerly discussing her Quidditch Tournament, set for three in the afternoon, over lunch.  
  
"I hope it doesn't start snowing," Harry said with a frown.  
  
"It won't," Alice assured him. "But it will be rather gusty. All the better, I think. A little challenge never hurt anyone."  
  
"I hope everything goes well."  
  
"It will," Alice chirped.  
  
"Yeah, but I haven't played Quidditch for far too long." Harry was somewhat worried. He hoped he still knew how to hang on to his broom.  
  
"You'll be fine," Alice cooed. "Don't worry! That's what's wrong with you—you worry too much! That's my job."  
  
Sighing, Harry feigned a smile. "All right, all right. I think I'm going to go polish my Firebolt." Sirius had given Harry the broomstick in his third year at Hogwarts.  
  
"I think I'll go get my broomstick ready, too," Alice agreed, pushing her hardly-touched plate away with a long white finger.  
  
"All right. So we're meeting on the field at two?"  
  
"Yes, I think that's sufficient time for a little explaining. I need to touch on some rule changes and the like, and we might want to just make sure everyone has a serviceable broomstick and so forth."  
  
"All right . . . well, I'll see you later," Harry faltered while exiting the Great Hall. His stomach was flopping around within him; he wasn't at all sure he could hold onto that broomstick. He'd probably loose breakfast and lunch once he got up off the ground.  
  
Harry was in his room, using the Broomstick Servicing Kit that Hermione had given him while they were still at Hogwarts, when a sudden gust of chilling wind swept suddenly through the opened window. The tattered curtains fluttered lazily on the small breeze as it whisked through the room. Shivering, he stood to close the window. As he pulled the pane downwards, a tiny piece of paper on the floor caught his eye. Frowning, he bent to fetch it, and slowly, carefully unfolded the parchment.  
  
…meet me at seven in the Forbidden Forest. I will be waiting. No one must know of the meeting. Be there, or …  
  
"I wonder what this is," Harry mused, but not really wondering at all. His mind was far too troubled to really take in this new development. He sat back down on the bed and began once again to absently polish the broom handle. He didn't even notice that he was using his robe to do so.  
  
At precisely two o'clock he entered the Quidditch field, where he saw a small group of people huddled together. Alice was standing in front of them all, resplendent in a flowing golden robe. Harry also recognized his team to consist of Ron, Malfoy, Sirius, Snape, and Madam Hooch, who usually refereed the games. He hastened to join the others, just in time to hear Alice say quite warmly, "Well, in one hour the school will turn out to see our Quidditch match. Although all the usual Quidditch rules apply, there are several additions for this version. Firstly, if you can't defeat an obstacle, you must leave the game. Or, if, heaven forbid, an obstacle harms you in any way, you must also sit out of the game. Each team has two replacements. If more than two players are removed from your team, you have to keep playing with the number of players remaining. Any obstacle that comes in your path must be fought, no shirking duties. We're playing this game not only for entertainment, but for educational purposes as well. Any questions?"  
  
Nobody said anything.  
  
"Very well. Huddle with your team." The teachers broke off to one corner of the field, the students to another.  
  
"What position is everyone playing?" Snape asked as soon as everyone was clustered into a tight circle. He brushed a wisp of his shortened locks from his eyes and looked intently at the six faces of his teammates.  
  
"Well, Harry's Seeker," Alice informed, "I'm Keeper, Madam Hooch, Ron, and Sirius are the Chasers, and the Beaters are Malfoy and Snape. Got it?"  
  
Everyone nodded, a gust of wind blowing a cloud of dusty white to veil their faces. Harry squinted, his eyes narrow in his cold-flushed cheeks.  
  
"Is there a—plan?" Sirius ventured uncertainly.  
  
"Well, basically, there're going to be a number of little obstacles. I'm going to tell you about each one." She smiled, her own cheeks unnaturally red from the chill. "Several rather dark creatures are going to be in the air with us, or positioned on hoops or Bludgers. Nothing that you haven't encountered before. Things that you learned about throughout your schooling at Hogwarts. Also, I'm having Frank and Emily shoot off a number of curses at sporadic intervals throughout the game. Once again, nothing you can't handle. Nothing extremely fancy or anything; I don't want to outdo the students. I have two seventh years, and then one student from each preceding year, except firsts, since they cannot have broomsticks. Therefore, they have varying levels of experience with handling the Dark Arts. For that reason, all the spells and creatures will be of various levels of difficulty as well. You may have to reach quite far back into your memories to remember a certain counter-curse or spell to ward off various creatures."  
  
"What about you? Aren't you going to assist us?" Madam Hooch asked eagerly.  
  
"Now that wouldn't be fair," Alice admonished. "My rule is that the Keepers can't help with the obstacles. The seventh year playing Keeper is thoroughly aware of the fact."  
  
Everyone looked understandably disappointed, but none voiced their opinion. "Will we win?" Malfoy inquired sheepishly.  
  
"I'm not telling," Alice answered with a devilish grin.  
  
Harry pretended to pout. "Please, pretty please?"  
  
"Maybe, maybe not" was the maddening response. A short silence ensued, and then Alice added, "The audience will be out any minute now."  
  
Harry's nervousness had vanished temporarily, but now came back in full-force. It felt like his stomach was trying to leap up into his throat, only to be pulled down again by his intestines.  
  
He stood, transfixed, watching in breath-stopping terror as the students poured out into the bleachers. He felt a hand on his shoulder. To his surprise, it was Snape.  
  
"Don't worry so much. The kids will boo no matter what. They don't want the teachers to win, remember?"  
  
Maybe that's what was making him so nervous. Even—especially—if he pulled off a spectacular performance, the kids would be upset.  
  
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Harry mumbled.  
  
"Just don't let it get to you," Snape exclaimed, and did something quite frightening—he smiled.  
  
"What's gotten into you?" Harry exclaimed with a laugh.  
  
Snape shrugged. "I've decided that I shouldn't let old grudges ruin my life, with a little help from Alice. She talked some sense into me. Believe me, I wish someone had tried to do that years ago. I feel wonderful!" But then his face fell. "However, I don't think Remus or Sirius have yet forgiven me."  
  
Harry glanced over at the two in question, both of whom were glaring coldly at him. Tugging absently at the collar of his red Quidditch robe, Harry mumbled, "Yeah, well, just give it a while. I think they'll get over it, sooner or later."  
  
"Yeah, definitely later," Snape added dejectedly. "Oh well."  
  
"Yes, well . . . good luck! Keep the Bludgers away."  
  
"Will do." Snape walked away to talk to Madam Hooch. Harry, meanwhile, fought his way through several small snowdrifts to stand with Lupin and Sirius.  
  
"You know," he said somewhat pointedly, "it isn't kind of you to treat Snape the way you are when he's trying to make amends."  
  
"He started it," Lupin pointed out.  
  
"You should finish it," Harry managed between clenched teeth. Not only was he angry, but also he was trying to keep his teeth from chattering.  
  
"God, you sound like my mum. Don't do that!" Sirius exclaimed.  
  
"Well really, you are both being ridiculously immature. It's fair depressing when your godson has to knock some sense into you."  
  
"I agree. The 'godson' should just mind his own business," Lupin admonished. "Harry, you don't know everything about Snape."  
  
"Neither do you," Harry retorted.  
  
"Even that being the case, we know him a hellufa lot better than you do," Sirius reminded Harry.  
  
"Yes, but Alice knows him as well as he knows himself, and she's the one who tried to get him to change. And it worked. And it would be a lot more wonderful if you would make an effort to forgive him a schoolboy grudge and make him realize that he's finally doing the right thing!" Harry's chest was heaving with rage as he stomped away.  
  
"Wait, Harry!" Lupin cried. "Come back here. Harry! You were right. We're sorry."  
  
Harry ignored them. Alice glided over to where he stood. "Ready? It's about time to mount broomsticks and begin the match."  
  
"Yeah, I guess," Harry grumbled.  
  
"All right then. Good luck!" She shot him such a cheery smile that he couldn't help but feel a bit better.  
  
Frank was refereeing. "Teams, get into position," he said, his voice projected many times louder via a spell.  
  
Harry and his team gathered together, and they all exchanged thumbs ups and smiles.  
  
"Mount your broomsticks . . ." A shrill whistle chirruped through the crisp winter air. Harry found himself soaring up, up, upwards. He was flying, and it was glorious!  
  
He shot like a bullet into the sky until he was far above the bleachers. From here he could see all the action, while keeping one eye on the constant alert for a fluttering bit of gold: the Snitch.  
  
Obviously, the student Seeker thought he stood the best chance if he stayed on Harry's heels. He was just a foot below Harry's broomtail; if Harry felt the urge, he could've bent over and brushed the boy's head with his fingertips. But he wasn't worried. The Seeker was on a fairly obsolete broom compared to his Firebolt, the fastest broom model in wizarding technology.  
  
To Harry's surprise, McGonagall was commentating. He had to admit that it wasn't quite as exciting as when the Weasley twins' friend Lee Jordan had done the announcements, but she was putting in a good effort.  
  
"Teachers in possession of the Quaffle . . . oooh, nice Bludger work by Johnson . . . Quaffle stolen by Geoff of Gryffindor . . . an incredible repossession by Sirius Black, way to go! . . . Jennings, student Beater, hit by a well-aimed Bludger, great job, Severus . . . and the teachers score!"  
  
It all happened in a matter of moments. Harry couldn't believe how fast the plays seemed to be occurring. He knew that they were, in reality, no faster than what they had always been, but he was out of practice. If the Snitch were to suddenly appear, and the student to begin the dive first . . . but he wouldn't think such morbid thoughts. He was going to win! He was jolted back to the game by a sudden shout from McGonagall.  
  
"The first obstacle has been released into the arena. Nothing much, a quaddleratch, but only those with the training of sixth year and above will be able to defeat this little guy. It seems to be drawn by some sort of magical magnetism to the Quaffle . . . Ron Weasley currently in possession . . . oooh, close one! Better watch those sharp little teeth."  
  
It did look rather foreboding. The little monster was about the size of a small file cabinet, half of which was its head. The jaws, which were agape, were filled with thousands and thousands of needle-sharp teeth at least an inch long. It had nearly gnashed Ron's fingers.  
  
"How do you fight this bloody nuisance?" Harry heard Ron wail. He had dropped the Quaffle, which was now being sped across the field by a fifth year. She seemed absolutely terrified of the creature that was trailing on her heels.  
  
"Adkins dodges a Bludger hit by Draco Malfoy and goes for the goal . . . nice save by Alice Oak! The score remains at 10-0, teachers leading. Someone had better deal with that quaddleratch, so the next obstacle can be introduced before somebody gets hurt."  
  
McGonagall's timing was either right on the money or she should have joined Seers-R-Us, because one of the seventh years finally got an opportunity to shoot a streak of purple lightning at the small creature, which shriveled up into a small crusty ball that disintegrated into ash, dissolving the snow upon which it scattered.  
  
The game progressed, so quickly that Harry was hard pressed to follow the Quaffle.  
  
The teachers' lead increased steadily . . . twenty to nothing, thirty to nothing, forty to nothing, fifty to nothing, fifty to ten, sixty to ten, sixty to twenty, sixty to thirty, seventy to thirty, eighty to thirty . . .  
  
Suddenly, a brilliant streak of golden and greenish light seemed to fill the air, and the movements of all the players seemed to become more relaxed. Harry tried to put his arm in front of him, and was amazed to see it seem to float ever-so-slowly into the position that he had wanted. Somehow, time had been slowed!  
  
McGonagall's voice came over the loudspeaker in slow-mo. "And the Time-Teaser Curse has been activated by Professor Reede. If a seventh year or higher doesn't break this curse soon, we could be here for a very, very long time."  
  
Harry tried to dart toward the other side of the stadium, but he crawled like a snail. He saw the ball gracefully fall into the hands of a student ten feet below him, and the student slowly floating toward their goalpost. Just as delayed, Madam Hooch drifted over toward the second year in possession. A hand shot with excruciatingly low speed toward the ball, as the student carefully dragged it from her suspended reach . . .  
  
Professor Snape's voice blasted like a bass drum. "Kroo-loo-dee-ous . . ."  
  
Madam Hooch's hand grasped the ball in a fraction of a second and she was speeding toward the teachers' goalpost.  
  
The students all seemed relieved that the curse had been broken. Harry was, too. The game had been maddeningly uneventful when time was turned down several notches.  
  
Madam Hooch had reached the goal and successfully thrown the ball into one of the rings. Ninety to thirty. Harry wanted the Snitch to come soon. His biggest fear right now was that he'd lost his touch, that he'd forgotten how to dive down onto the Snitch and pull out with that sparkling golden ball with its snowy wings clasped tightly in his palm.  
  
The student in possession of the Quaffle let out a muffled scream and let it fall down, down, down onto the field below. Harry followed the ball with his eyes, or what had been the ball only moments before. It was now a whirling ball of fire, hissing ominously as it loomed ever closer to the snow-coated grass beneath him. With a loud crackle, it hit the snow. Suddenly, the whole ground was alight, and flames were soaring ever higher . . .  
  
The children in the stands were in a panic. Harry could hear McGonagall's voice booming over the loud speaker: "No need for panic, stay calm. It's just the Drain Flame. All the fire does is suck the energy from those it touches. No cause for worry, just sit down."  
  
The flames soared higher and higher, engulfing the other players. Finally, Harry felt them licking his own feet. Odd, the coldness he felt. Like all the heat had been pulled from him . . .  
  
Harry hung limply from his broom, as though he were made of straw. His fingers felt ready to release their hold at any moment.  
  
A soft mumbling reached Harry's ears from somewhere below him. The inferno of heat turned an eerie shade of black before falling like the tides into nothingness.  
  
Harry finally mustered enough strength to gaze below him. He found that many of the other players were in the same fix as he. Snape was muttering something to himself, probably some sort of strengthening spell, but he was literally hanging onto the broom by his little finger. Alice was sprawled over one of the goalposts, looking thoroughly ill, and one of the students was lying spread-eagled in the snow.  
  
"And someone is injured!" McGonagall managed to mumble into the microphone, slouched over in her seat in the stands. Everyone in the audience was draped over a chair, or lying on the pavement, or doubled over in their chair. Harry had a suspicion that the game would be called off. It was.  
  
"It is my belief," McGonagall stated, "that this game should be postponed until further notice, seeing as players and fans alike are both without the energy to continue this match. Let's move inside. If we can," McGonagall added rather wryly.  
  
Harry somehow maneuvered his broomstick to a window in Gryffindor Tower, and fell in a sprawling heap on the floor of one of the boys' dormitories. Groaning, he shifted into a somewhat less cramped position.  
  
"How long will this damned spell last?" Harry muttered through his lax jaws. He didn't voice the opinion to anyone in particular, and certainly he didn't expect an answer. Therefore, he was quite surprised to hear a small voice reply to his question.  
  
"Well, sir, I think the spell lasts only a short period of time, but don't take my word on it, sir."  
  
He managed to turn his head to face the direction of the voice. Seated on top of one of the beds was a small house elf, with ears of an extremely disproportionate size and eyes like tennis balls.  
  
"Well, what's your name?" Harry asked kindly.  
  
"My name is Francis, sir, and I have heard wonderful things about you, Professor Potter." He gazed at Harry with crystalline orbs that shone deeply with admiration. "Dobby talks much of Harry Potter."  
  
"Yes, how is Dobby? I haven't seen him for a while," Harry replied.  
  
"Dobby is very well, sir. Dumbledore gave him a striped hat before he disappeared. He does love clothes, Dobby does." The house elf's gargantuan eyes brimmed with tears. "But Dumbledore is gone, sir, and poor Francis misses him muchly."  
  
"Yes, we all miss Dumbledore, too," Harry said in sympathetic agreement. He did miss Dumbledore. Dumbledore was of the type of person with whom Harry truly felt he could talk. McGonagall was very kind, and made a great headmistress, but she just wasn't the same. Dumbledore's fatherly presence radiated a glowing kindness to which Harry felt drawn. Perhaps it was the lack of a father in his own life. Great, now he felt weepy, too.  
  
"You know, Francis, I have to go downstairs and talk with some people who are probably wondering where I am. Besides, tomorrow is the Christmas feast. You should probably be helping prepare the feast in the kitchen."  
  
"Right Harry Potter is, sir!" Francis exclaimed, bouncing upright upon the bed and giving a small salute as he dashed out into the hallway. Harry could hear the flopping of his mismatched shoes (apparently Dobby had created a new trend) as he bounded down the stairs. Harry followed somewhat more slowly. He was still feeling unsteady, but at least it was better than hardly being able to move at all.  
  
He maneuvered through the numerous stone passageways and finally found his way into the large Great Hall, where it seemed everyone had congregated. Alice smiled at him as he wandered in, and Hagrid grinned and waved with a hand the size of a small floor rug.  
  
Slowly, he made his way to the staff table, all the while trying to listen to the speech that McGonagall was in the middle of presenting to an uncannily silent audience of students.  
  
"Usually, we are not accustomed to having such a large number of students on campus over the Christmas holiday. However, we've decided to treat the day like any other holiday: no lessons and a feast in the late afternoon." She had to wait a moment as the students cheered at the prospect of an additional Hogwarts feast. "Quiet down, quiet down. Lessons will not be present until New Years Day. However, on January second, you are to report to your classes as you would on any normal day. Until then, however, you may do as you wish, as long as you follow the school rules. The regulations are far more important now that danger is imminent. Is that clear?"  
  
A vigorous nodding of heads followed.  
  
"Very well. You are all dismissed to your common rooms until supper." A throng of students filed from the room, and the teachers stood to follow.  
  
"Wait," McGonagall said somewhat sharply. "I want to talk with you all."  
  
Harry lowered himself back into his seat, looking somewhat sheepish.  
  
"Please, just keep an eye on the children. I know you might feel somewhat resentful of the fact that the students are stealing away one of our major times of relaxation, but—well, there isn't anything to be done about it." McGonagall looked extremely weary. "Just make sure they don't get into any trouble," she pleaded. "You may go."  
  
Harry spent the rest of the evening recovering from the spell that had gone somewhat awry. As he crawled into bed, he could scarcely fall asleep, his excitement for Christmas was so great.  
  
  
  
Of course, the day seemed like any other, but Harry knew differently. It may have seemed childish, to still be so excited about Christmas, but he loved awakening to the morning knowing that people actually cared.  
  
He quickly pulled on some slippers, for the floor was unbearably cold compared to the warmth of his bed, and peered over the edge of his bed to see what gifts may await him.  
  
He found, to his delight, nine. He tore the brightly colored paper from the packages greedily, ripping the bows to shreds. The first box was from Mrs. Weasley, and contained a sweater (gold) and a box of home-baked cakes and cookies in various wizarding flavors.  
  
The next gift was wrapped in a satiny black paper and tied with a glittering golden ribbon. Harry knew immediately that it was from Alice. He had come to learn quite quickly that that particular color combination was her trademark. Upon unwrapping the present, he found an ancient leather book and a small, glowing box that radiated a soft purple sheen. Heart thumping, he read the title of the tome: Reading The Persona Imager. He could hardly believe it. But then he'd remembered her saying something about giving it to him. She was as good as her word. He gingerly placed it on a shelf beside his bed. He'd look at it more closely later.  
  
The next was in dull brown postage paper, and rather sloppily tied. Harry slit the tape holding it together to find a small, dusty apron inside of a thoroughly unattractive shade of brown. Dobby. He should've guessed.  
  
Another gift was wrapped in a blue and green plaid. When unwrapped, the box was found to contain a new set of herbs and plants necessary for potion making. A small card on the bow read:  
  
To Harry  
  
I know, I'm too practical.  
  
Frank  
  
It actually meant a lot to Harry. He had forgotten to finish his errands in Diagon Alley, and had been without proper herbs this whole time.  
  
A tiny present wrapped in red and gold had been carefully placed on the desk. He found it to contain a very delicate-looking blown-glass figurine of a lion. Harry was somewhat startled when it began to strut about in his hand, but after over seven years spent in the wizarding world, where just about anything could happen, nothing surprised him much anymore. The tag told him it was from Ron. "Still a brave Gryffindor. Thanks for sticking by me," he read aloud. His throat thick with suppressed emotion, he placed it very carefully on the desk. It curled up under the rusted sconce, which was radiating a pleasant heat, and fell asleep.  
  
A wild-looking paper of sparkling greens and brilliant magentas bespoke Emily in every way. The box was from Wizard's Fashion Depot. He was very reluctant to peer inside, and found a rather motley set of dress robes in cornflower blue. They were grotesque beyond description. Only have to wear them once, to show her that I do use them, he thought, depositing them upon the floor with discarded garments.  
  
A small bag produced a pair of black socks that looked quite ordinary. Upon stripping off his slippers and placing them on his feet, however, Harry discovered that his toes were pleasantly toasty. Lupin had jotted him a quick note wishing him a merry holiday.  
  
That left two: an over-sized package in rat-spangled paper (he guessed it was from Hagrid) and an unadorned white box that was taped shut. He picked up the smaller of the two and, unbinding the tape, shook the lid to open the package.  
  
He found inside a small pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, accompanied by a tiny card that read:  
  
Truth Spectacles  
  
Wizards Are Us  
  
Tired of being lied to? Sick of being the guy in the middle?  
  
Need to know when people are saying what is real?  
  
Don't hesitate to believe them now! Use  
  
Truth spectacles  
  
and you will know who you can trust!  
  
In the case of any problems, contact us at  
  
1800 Wizard Lane  
  
London, England  
  
98234  
  
Harry read the smaller note aloud. "Sorry, Harry, but I couldn't find a single thing of use besides these. I thought that perhaps with the hard times so many seem to think still lay ahead of us, these may come in handy. I look forward to seeing you later today. Sirius." He smiled in spite of himself. Truth spectacles. What a ridiculous idea.  
  
Harry finally fell upon the last of his presents. He couldn't drag this one onto the bed to open. He had to rear up on the very tips of his toes to reach the top to open the box. He was somewhat daunted to find the top speckled with holes.  
  
He finally managed to rip the box open, and stood agape in the middle of the room when he found a small lizard-like thing staring at him. It was a frindlegroff, an uncommon sort of serpent that dwelled in caves and whose scales had unusual magical charms. And it ate dead grackliggens, rare goose-like creatures. Harry didn't even want to think how much that was going to cost him.  
  
Just then he heard a knock upon his door. He bounded toward the door and flung it open to find all of his friends on the other side. "Merry Christmas!" they exclaimed.  
  
"And to all of you as well!" he replied enthusiastically. "Thank you for your gifts."  
  
They all nodded. "And thank you," they each said in return.  
  
Harry had found each of them a present while in Hogsmeade. Alice he had given a small pair of crystal ball earrings which seemed to match her necklace fairly well; Ron had received a rat, just because Ron had given him one for his birthday; Frank had gotten a nice set of wizarding pajamas, in pine green silk; Sirius was fortunate enough to get a crystal ball paper weight (consult the forces while waiting for clients! The slogan had said); Lupin had received a set of fancy quill pens and finest quality parchment and ink; and had presented Emily with a new shade of lipstick called "Frosty Flower," which changed colors with one's body temperature.  
  
"Let's go get some breakfast," Sirius urged. "I'm absolutely starving."  
  
"Yes, let's," Emily agreed. "There won't be any lunch, since the feast is at five, and I sure am hungry. I would hate to miss breakfast and have to wait until then to eat."  
  
Harry readily agreed and accompanied his companions to the Great Hall, where they gorged on pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, and blood sausage. Alice ate a piece of toast. With currant jam.  
  
After that, they found their way to Alice's room, where a roaring blaze was crackling contentedly in the hearth. They all curled up on the bed or in large armchairs that she produced.  
  
They recounted the Christmases of past, and Harry listened eagerly as Lupin and Sirius talked about holidays from their days at Hogwarts, when his parents had been students.  
  
"We always stayed for the break, just so we could be together," Lupin concluded. "Not like Sirius had any choice. He had been orphaned several years before. We always liked to keep him company. And Lily would stay, too. She was such a pretty girl, even then . . . had half the boys goggling over her, she did . . . Of course, the feasts were better back then. We had more food that you could imagine for the dozen or so people who stayed for the holiday. Plum puddings and goose and roasted duck and vegetable pasties . . . " And Lupin and Sirius would both smile fondly as they reminisced.  
  
And Emily and Frank had some interesting tales about Beauxbatons, where they had both attended school.  
  
"You'd wake up in the morning and the dormitory would be filled with lacy paper snowflakes, not one the same as any other," Emily recounted. "And then you'd make your way downstairs to a grand breakfast, and they had a tree four stories tall in the main gathering room, where everyone's presents were clustered. You'd find yours and open them with everyone else, and there was always so much laughter. I so enjoyed Christmas at school!"  
  
Eventually, they decided to go outside for a stroll by the lake. But one thing led to another and the peaceful walk became a snowball war. Spattered with snow and shivering in the damp, they made their way back into the school and prepared for the feast.  
  
Harry had never seen such grand festivities! The students had all donned dress robes for the dancing that was to follow, and the golden platters that graced the white linen tabletops twinkled invitingly in the soft glow of thousands of tiny candles. A large tree was in the front of the room, dripping with beautiful ornaments that only a wizard could create. The room was bursting with holiday spirit.  
  
He sat beside Alice and Frank at the dinner table, and began to help himself to the multitudes of food that heaped the table. He began with some spiced rice, lobster tail, and fresh tossed salad, and from there went on to eat so much that he felt ready to explode. When the table produced dessert, he could barely swallow a serving of plum pudding and apple pie a la mode. Absolutely stuffed, he pushed the plate away, and it cleared itself of any remaining tidbits of food.  
  
"That was delicious," Frank said.  
  
"Yes, most certainly," Alice agreed.  
  
"Well, I suppose once the students have finished feasting, we can begin the dancing," Harry concluded, gazing around at the other tables that filled the spacious hall. Most of the students were facing glimmering golden platters that were bereft of any morsel of food, but some were yet eating dessert.  
  
When the last student had finally finished their food and their plate had cleaned itself, McGonagall stood up. "May the festivities begin!" she exclaimed. Alice wearily pointed her wand at the tables and they temporarily disappeared. The students took the cue and stood, and their chairs disappeared as well.  
  
The staff was standing as well. A waltz began to play from an ancient phonograph in the corner of the room, and the students were beginning to dance. From the looks of it, many did not know classical dancing. Harry offered Alice a hand, and she accepted it with a smile.  
  
She was stunningly attired in a figure-fitting purple satin gown that matched the color of her eyes. Her hair was pulled back and pilled on top of her head, and she was wearing the new earrings he had given her.  
  
He led her in a slow waltz around the Great Hall, holding her close. He didn't want the moment to ever end, but the music stopped and a vivacious tango took its place. Harry wasn't familiar with the steps, so he had to sit out for that dance. Frank took Alice, and passed Emily, with whom he'd been dancing, to Sirius.  
  
Frank and Alice both danced well. Frank was a few inches taller than Harry, which made Alice look a little less awkwardly tall for a female. They both were extraordinarily graceful, and Harry found himself wistfully wishing that he were a better dancer. He couldn't believe he was jealous, and felt a twinge of guilt at the feeling.  
  
Sirius wasn't a very good dancer, on the other hand, but he was making Emily laugh. Harry couldn't think of any time when he had seen a clumsier person on the dance floor. He smiled wryly.  
  
All of the songs must have been as ancient as the old machine, because all of the students looked hopelessly lost. Some of the more elderly teachers knew the tunes and were slowly dancing in the center of the floor as best their rusted limbs would allow, but most of the students hung around the walls, drinking Wizard Punch and gossiping.  
  
The festivities and dancing continued long into the night. Harry drank wine and champagne and punch and danced until his feet hurt too badly to stand on them. By then, the students were dropping off one by one to their bedrooms, wishing each other merry Christmas and happy holidays.  
  
Finally, only a few members of the staff remained in the Great Hall. Alice looked dead tired. Clasping her hands above her arms and yawning, she mumbled, "I'm so very tired, Harry; I think I'll go get some sleep."  
  
"Good idea," Harry said in agreement. "I think I'll wait awhile."  
  
She smiled. "Merry Christmas, Harry." Turning, she walked out the doors.  
  
Harry helped the remaining teachers to straighten up the room and at least return some of the order to it. Tomorrow, Alice could help with the rest. Finally, everyone was in bed except Harry.  
  
For some reason, he just couldn't go to his bedroom. Something was compelling him to stay there. Weary yet restless, he walked into the hallway for a late night stroll.  
  
The door suddenly burst open, and Harry was blasted with an icy stream of inclement wind. He turned to see who might be entering the castle at such an hour, and gawked at the woman who stood on the threshold.  
  
She was wiry and thin, as though in illness; every nerve seemed wary and alert. Her hair was wild and askew, and her robes seemed musty and old. Her eyes were sunken deep into her pale face.  
  
"What do you want?" Harry asked, stumbling backwards and taking hold of a nearby banister to steady himself.  
  
She smiled sadly. "Harry, don't you know who I am?" she asked.  
  
Something about that voice sounded so familiar . . .  
  
"I'm Hermione." 


End file.
